Montane Hope
by colorama
Summary: Draco’s sixth year started badly and got worse. Join him as he struggles to learn a new skill, ignore the distraction of his best enemies and come to terms with a future he didn’t expect. Includes a walk in New Zealand and some stunning imagery. FINIS
1. Default Chapter

Chapter 1 (of 16)

Draco surveyed the table. It was just light, a heavy frost outside and the table was _bare_. Well, almost. A large bowl of fruit sat in the middle of the table, there were jugs of milk and fruit juice nearby and a glass jar full of homemade muesli. He knew from previous mornings that the little containers held sesame seeds, crushed linseed, and pumpkin seeds – no sugar at all. It had been the same for the past week.

Dylan grinned. "Eat as much as you can, you know there's never any decent snacks round here."

Draco's stomach grumbled. His auntie was a health freak. So much for summer, being starved in a country full of Muggles wasn't his idea of fun. _We-ell_. Filling his bowl and scattering on crushed nuts and seeds till it overflowed, he filled a pint-mug with fruit juice and took a seat by the fire. His cousin, Dylan, was testament to the 'healthy' lifestyle. Even though it was winter, he was lightly tanned with a permanent glow to his cheeks. Only a year older than Draco, he was taller and bulkier, strong from the outside chores he did – without magic – on his parents' farm.

His aunt's cooking, combining or whatever you call it (since the meals often _weren't _cooked) was certainly tasty. However, after a week of strenuous, activity helping Dylan outside his body was demanding more food, real food. Normally Draco would have sneered at his cousin's lifestyle. However, the advice Dumbledore gave him at the end of the year had intrigued him – not least because Severus Snape had been in full agreement. Besides – and he barely dared admit this to himself – Dylan was the best looking wizard he'd ever met. What was good for Dylan must be good for Draco – though he still wasn't sure about all these Muggle gadgets – and electricity! Dylan's father had put magical shields round most of the power points in the house. Magic to protect from magic.

The past year – Draco's sixth at Hogwarts – could easily be described as his worst year ever. Visions of the future gave him hope to carry on. A future that, if he lived, would surely see him recognised as one of the most powerful wizards Britain had known for years – maybe even more famous than Hermione Granger. After all, _he_ was a pure-blood and she…

Already he was involved in a war that would shape the future of wizardry. In less than a month he would be back in Britain, ready to fulfil his role. His time in New Zealand would not be wasted. The books Snape had given him outlined the next step in his studies, lessons he could learn here, during the New Zealand winter before the time came to return home. Thinking about this, he chased the last sesame seeds with his spoon, scooping them a few at a time out of the bottom of the bowl. _When should I start though? And where?_

"Do you want to take the car later?" Dylan asked. "I'll teach you how to drive."

"Yeah. Where can it go?"

"Anywhere you like, as long as there's a road there."

_888888888888888888888_

The Weasel was alone for once. Draco hummed a snatch of song under his breath as he approached. _I should really make up another. If only I could be bothered._ He slouched along the corridor, still humming.

"So, Malfoy. Where are the Ugly Sisters?"

"Pardon?" Draco acted as though he'd only just noticed Ron Weasley. Weasley sneered, an ugly look.

"You heard. Crabbe and Goyle, your shadows."

You know where they are. They're with Mudblood Granger." Draco gazed levelly at Weasley. It was like teasing a kitten. That word, _mudblood_, always set him off.

"You dare…"

"Don't worry, Weasley. I'm sure the three of them are getting on very well with Poppy."

Weasley's hand was twitching. He turned sharply on his heel, back the way he had come.

_Well, what makes him think_ I _won't get my wand out_? Draco fingered it in his pocket. _Now really Draco – and a prefect!_ Why waste an opportunity like this though?

"Heard from your mother lately, Weasley," he called after him. "I heard she trimmed down a bit after your father nearly died last year. Bit of a fright, wasn't it?"

Ron spun round, a look of horror on his face. Draco ploughed relentlessly on. "I suppose she struggled a bit while he wasn't working, with you lot and all your hangers-on. Beats me why she doesn't just push you all out of that pigsty – send you to boarding school or…"

Ron was purple. "You shut up about my Mum, or… Say Malfoy, how's your Mum coping?"

Draco started turning pink. His mother didn't care. He knew that now. Why had it taken him sixteen years to find that out?

"How come you're staying over Christmas, doesn't she want…" Draco slid his wand out. Ron blinked, but continued, "…you. Or has she got other things to do with your Dad out of the way?"

"_Arachnaporta"_

"_Expelliarmus"_

Ron's disarming hex hit the large floating spider that hovered in front of his face. His eyes opened wide, and Draco thought he was going to actually faint. Then the spell crumbled to the floor. _Better do it properly then_.

Ron's shield charm deflected the rapidly thrown stunners. He raised his wand in retaliation but then abruptly dropped his arm. Draco stuffed his wand back in his pocket.

"Mr Weasley, that'll be five points off Gryffindor and detention if I find you loitering down here again. Malfoy, my office please."

Snape! He turned briskly, robes swishing as he glided into his office. _Am I actually in trouble? Not as if I care anyway._ Draco slouched along, staring at the floor. Snape was already sitting at his desk; he lazily lifted his wand and drew a chair up as Draco entered.

"Sit Draco."

"Professor…"

"Draco, I am not concerned about the incident with Weasley. Listen. You will be facing expulsion before Christmas unless there are some _drastic_ changes."

"Professor, I…"

"I have no interest in excuses, Mr Malfoy. Your grades are appalling – in every subject. I have received behaviour reports from _every_ member of staff in the school, including myself. Yes Draco, when you hex Miss Granger behind her back during potions, I write out a formal report. How many times have you received detention this term?"

Draco looked at the desk. "Six," he mumbled.

"Six." It was the Snape equivalent of a shout, his voice silky and low. "Draco, I know about adolescence, I know where your father is – yes, I even know what your mother is doing in his absence. Right now, the only thing you should be concerned about is your grades."

_8888_

_Adolescence. Bloody adolescence. He doesn't know what he's talking about, I was over with all that years ago._ Draco stormed into the common room and straight to his dormitory, hearing someone say as he passed, "What's eating him?" That was Pansy. He ignored her, throwing himself through the door and onto his bed where he lay, staring at the ceiling. Let them wonder, he didn't care.

Why had he said it? Draco had sat and stared at the table, Snape's words sliding unheard past him. For the past five years he had tried to emulate Snape. He was the keenest mind in Britain, and one of the most powerful wizards ever. It was a privilege to be one of his students. Now, of course, he realised he had been silly. He was far too stupid to think of being like Severus Snape. How could he ever be anything with a father like Lucius Malfoy? And his mother, he thought she had been intelligent once, but now she was clearly off her rocker.

So why had he said it? The word had just popped into his mind. Snape had stopped talking. Draco looked up into the silence and met his eyes.

"Professor, will you teach me Subneorancia?"

Snape looked startled. "Where did you hear about that?"

"I…uh read it in the library." Confessing that he had overheard Granger muttering to herself would not be a good move. Especially as he had been crouching behind the library shelves, about to jump out and give her a fright. Especially (and some things he tried to deny even to himself) as he had first been distracted by the light catching the strands of hair that just wouldn't be tamed, and then realised that what she was saying was really important.

"Mr Malfoy, when you have shown significant improvement…"

"You gave Potter extra tuition last year."

"When you have become something worth teaching, we will talk about it again. My timetable is rather busy just now."

Draco gradually relaxed his muscles as he gazed at the ceiling. He could feel the blood thumping above his eyes. After Christmas, he'd said. _Just what is Snape so busy with anyway?_ Draco had drifted off to sleep long before Zabini and Nott crept upstairs. Crabbe and Goyle were still in the hospital wing.

_88888888888888888888888_

Draco was a natural when it came to driving – although he insisted on having all the windows down. He actually felt quite eerie with the windows up, as if he wasn't moving at all. With the windows down it was just like being on a broomstick buzzing telephone lines – he'd been doing that since he was five.

After twenty minutes he dropped Dylan off outside the house. He was on his own. Goodness knows where his parents were – or Dylan's father either for that matter. He suspected they were having a cosy meeting inside a volcanic crater. Lucius found volcanoes very attractive, in spite of the fact that they smelt like dungbombs. Dylan's mother was a muggle – albeit a strange one. She was teaching at the local infants' school.

_Is it time?_

Draco clearly remembered what he'd said when Professor Snape first suggested the next step. '_Birds and flowers! I'm not doing that'_.

'_You'll be a better wizard for it',_ Snape had replied.

The little car hummed along. Apparating was faster, but this was fun. The hill Dylan told him about appeared on his left. There was a turning just past the hill proper – too late. Draco would have spun the car but Dylan had warned him, "Dad and I, we're the only wizards in the country. Don't do anything silly, the Australian ministry can be a bit tricky." That was true enough, Draco had heard some funny stories about the Australian wizards since arriving here a week ago. They seemed obsessed with nature, studying earth patterns to an extent unheard of in Britain – until he started studying Subneorancia. He wondered whether a New Zealand ministry would be the same. Nearly all New Zealand wizards were Maori, and none had ever returned after attending school 'across the ditch', deep in the Australian desert.

_Is that what you want? To find the earth spirits and learn shamanism_. Dumbledore had said that it was a powerful, ancient magic. Draco would have dismissed it; everyone knew Dumbledore was a bit funny in the head after all, if it hadn't been for Snape's counsel.

Draco set his eyes on the jagged peaks straight ahead. Only half an hour and he'd be there.

_88888888888888888888888888_

Draco sauntered downstairs with Zabini and Pansy the next morning. Pansy howled with laughter when she saw Luna Lovegood ahead of them – she had her wand behind her ear as usual and was wearing a black cat that blinked and yawned as her head bobbed up and down. Draco nudged her, "You're a prefect – don't laugh, points." Draco and Blaise tried to hide their grins as Pansy caught up with Luna. The 'cat hat' uncurled, jumped down and streaked off in the direction of the Ravenclaw tower.

"You didn't take any points," Blaise Zabini said when Pansy returned.

"No, she said it was hatching kittens. She's going to keep one for me if there's any girls." Pansy cast an admiring glance in the direction the cat had gone. "Only one problem – Ginny Weasley invited her over for the holidays and she thinks it might've been that horrible ginger cat of Granger's that was with her." Pansy was still talking about 'her kitten' when the three sat down together at the Slytherin table.

"Say, you'll have to see Malfoy Manor some time," Draco said, sprinkling a tablespoon of sugar on his porridge. "I've never been allowed to bring my pets to school, Mother has to look after them during term time."

"Hey, I always wondered who those snakes were in your photos," Blaise said. "Most folks have their family on their dressing table."

Pansy finished her breakfast quickly and stood up. "We're learning about the phoenix in Care of Magical Creatures this morning. D'you want to tag along?"

"No thanks Pansy, I've better things to do in my free time. I'm going to the library." Draco left Pansy and Blaise staring at each other, mouths open.

"Something _is_ eating him," said Pansy.

_8888_

Draco moved swiftly to the table Hermione Granger had been sitting at the previous Saturday. Her books had long since been cleared but he knew a useful little spell – and as he'd hoped, no-one had used the desk since. He whispered _'Priori objet'_, and scribbled down the titles and authors as their vague outlines appeared.

"Mr Malfoy, we put in a catalogue system last year." Madam Pince, the librarian was standing behind him. "I can show you how to use that if you're looking for something."

Draco waved haughtily. "I'm sure I'll figure it out when I need to." He did have second thoughts when she'd left though; a catalogue in a library could be very useful

He checked the shelves till he found a title that matched the appearance of the book she'd been reading – a lilac bound, 10-inch thick tome with fragile yellowing parchment. Now it was about two thirds of the way… he opened the book at little more than half way and started hurriedly skimming the pages. He felt better than he had done for weeks. _Must be the absence of those big oafs. You need someone a bit more in line with your own intellect._ It had been fun, being with Pansy and Blaise.

Twenty minutes later he found it. He remembered how Granger had started, as though she'd been stung. She'd leaned forward – _she does need glasses, doesn't she_? – and started reading in a soft voice:

Subneorancia is the ancient art of earth magic. It is a simple form of the more advanced Neorancia and draws from the powers that created the substance of the earth, the herbs and every animal or being there-on. Mostly forgotten nowadays, it is rarely practised and fully understood by only a few of the most distinguished wizards of our time…

He glanced at the front cover of the book. Even he had heard of the witch who wrote it, despite sleeping through nearly every History of Magic class he'd ever attended. Alice Jane Black was near the top of his mother's genealogy chart at home. She had led a small band of wizards who founded a commune deep in the Scottish Highlands. After her death it had been broken up, and the vision behind this drastic move had never been fully understood. Draco had thought it was her solution to the witch hunts and the dangers of intermarriage with muggles. She'd lived in the early 1700's. He continued reading:

Those wizards who practise this magic regularly find their abilities to accomplish all other forms of magic are enhanced. As a rule their manner of working becomes very precise, their innate magical power increases four fold and they retain a control of their thoughts far beyond that of an ordinary wizard. Some, not all, of this group see visions. They advise common wizards in such things as world politics, child rearing and planning for the future. Subneorancia is within the reach of all wizards and Neorancia can be attained by those who are slightly above average intelligence and who have considerable determination. It is unfortunate that the art is likely to die out among wizards due to mere lack of application.

_Now what?_ Draco skimmed the rest of the chapter, but that was all. Most of the book consisted of mundane information about common weeds and their medicinal uses. _How am I to know she wasn't crazy when she wrote this?_ He scanned the other titles he'd written down but they did not seem to be related to the subject.

Perhaps it was time to find that catalogue. Probably no-one in the school had ever heard of Neorancia. It would take the rest of the year if he tried to find it from titles on the shelves.

_8888_

Madam Pince scowled at him when he asked for the books – apparently some of them had been placed in the restricted section when Phineas Nigellus Black was headmaster. But she allowed him to have them. He took them back to Granger's usual study desk and started reading one of the most recently written ones – not much more than a scroll of parchment as it was. Near the start his eyes caught a familiar name.

Neorancia was made famous in the 1700's by one of its most notable practitioners, Miss Alice Jane Black (later McGonagall). Today it is believed there are only two wizards in Britain who have studied this almost dead art. These are Albus Dumbledore, current Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and his acolyte, Severus Snape.

Snape _could_ do Neorancia! Draco packed all the books into his bag and left. He had almost an hour until his next class, and he'd developed a sudden urge to see how Crabbe and Goyle were getting on.


	2. Montane Hope Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 (of 16)**

Draco parked the car and rolled the windows up. Stuffing the wand back under his T-shirt he looked at the hill. He couldn't see the top. Trees towered over the carpark, blocking out the jagged peaks and much of the sky. He fingered his wand, tempted to apparate to the top and see what it was like. _What's the point of that? You came to learn the other magic. Muggle magic_. Draco shuddered at the thought, but it was true. Dylan's mum – his auntie - was a Muggle witch. She plucked herbs and burned incense in the evenings but couldn't summon the sort of power needed to use a wand. Sort of Sybill Trelawney type of magic – Draco doubted whether Sybill could use a wand either.

He let his arms swing as he started walking. Draco had designed a couple of straps to hold his wand under his T-shirt when he was wearing Muggle clothes. He'd never quite forgotten his mother's story of how one of the Ministry's best aurors had nearly caught his father, back when he was just a baby. The man had been chasing him down an alleyway and had tripped over his trousers – fallen against a wall and... The first time Draco had heard the story he'd thrown up, but that might have been because of the carrot ice-cream he'd been eating. Narcissa was certain that particular auror had only had one buttock since – there wouldn't have been any pieces big enough to save.

He couldn't possibly have worn muggle clothes since his accident. Draco clapped his hands over his own buttocks, checking that they were both still there. He could just imagine... _Control your thoughts, Draco!_ An image of a certain willowy, bushy haired young lady in tight green jeans was banished. Out. Gone.

Last summer was the first time he'd entered Muggle London without his parents – his mother had become... distracted while she was supposed to be buying his clothes, and hadn't even noticed when he slipped away. Lucius had only been in prison a few weeks at that stage and she clearly didn't miss him at all – the memory still made him angry. On impulse he'd changed some galleons for the crisp paper notes Muggles used, and slipped out through the Leaky Cauldron. Five hours later he floo'd back to Malfoy Manor exhausted, astonished at all the weird things he'd seen and with a bag full of new clothes. His mother hadn't returned home. He went back several more times before school started, introducing Vincent and Gregory to the wonders of the outside world as he killed the long, dreary days of summer. He'd thought that once school started and his father got out of Azkaban he might never have to speak to another Muggle again. And now look where he was. _How did a nice boy like you get into a mess like this?_ Three Muggles walked out from among the trees, calling a cheery, _Kia ora_ as they passed. He replied in kind, enjoying the way the Maori words slipped off the tongue.

&####&

Snape's words had been unusually confiding – even Draco, as his favoured student, was rarely privy to what he was thinking. Perhaps it was because of that Draco now remembered his words so clearly. Just before the holidays he had summoned Draco to give him the books saying, "Professor Dumbledore asked me to pass these on. They will help you learn Neorancia." Draco glanced at the smaller of the two books. It was unusual, written on thin paper in close black type. The lady on the cover photo stared unsmilingly, as if frozen in place.

"Is that written by...?"

"Yes Draco, we don't call Albus Dumbledore the Muggles' friend for nothing." Snape paused for a moment. "I don't know why you asked to learn Subneorancia, but I am quite confident that you did not know what you were asking. I began to study Subneorancia, then Neorancia when I was just a bit older than you are now. Learning Neorancia created a hope that did not centre in the Dark Arts. I warn you now Draco, if you follow my instructions you will not be the same wizard when you return to Hogwarts. You may despise Professor Dumbledore now but your studies will soon show you what manner of wizard he is."

&&&&######&&&&&

Madam Pomfrey stood with her arms folded at the door to the hospital wing, glaring at Draco. "I don't see why I should let you in,' she declared. "Half of these poor students would be at their lessons now if it hadn't been for you." Draco started to feel shrivelled up inside again. _Perhaps I should just go. It'd be easier. 'S not as if I care much anyway_. He started turning away, but to his surprise Madam Pomfrey was speaking again, in a softer voice. "Five minutes. Vincent and Gregory are at the far end, don't speak to anyone else." He looked at her, puzzled, and she smiled warmly. Uneasily he walked through the door that she held open and along to the two end cubicles. It was true, most of the people here he had injured. Not Crabbe and Goyle though, Potter, Weasley and Longbottom had come looking for him after he'd dive-bombed Granger during Quidditch practice. He would have taken the three of them on single-handedly if those two idiots hadn't got in the way.

They sat up, beaming excitedly as he approached. Crabbe's face still had little tentacles hanging off it and Goyle had a pair of leathery grey ears – and a tooth missing. Draco handed them each a chocolate frog. "Saved them for you special," he said. "My mum sent me a box this morning." His eyes flicked beyond Goyle. Hermione Granger lay in a drugged sleep, muttering and turning over every once in a while. Her face and neck were bruised black on one side.

"She good company?" he asked.

Goyle snorted. "Nah, Pomfrey only wakes her for meals. She can hardly sit up – I don't think they've found all the broken bones yet." Exhausted by this speech he slumped back. Draco handed him another chocolate frog.

"Here, have the lot," he said, pulling the whole bundle out and dumping them on the table between them. Their eyes lit up. _It's a good thing they don't know about the stack under my bed,_ Draco thought. He'd stopped eating the sweets his mum sent, ages ago. It just made him feel sick, knowing what she was doing. _I can't wait to get out of this place_. Did he mean the school, or the world? He didn't know. He glanced at Granger again before he left. She was lying on the bruised side now, her hair tumbling over the pillow. She didn't look so bad.

"Draco Malfoy!" Madam Pomfrey stopped him as he reached the door. Gently she took his arm. "Come with me, I've mixed up a potion for you." Draco tried to shake her off, but her grip was firmer than it appeared.

"I'm not sick," he protested, trying to ignore the headache that hadn't quite gone away. She clucked her tongue, shaking her head gently as she handed him the full beaker. The potion was bright pink and sparkled. It smelt like strawberries, and tasted like them too.

"Come back if you want any more," she said. Draco couldn't stop grinning. He felt as though bubbles were rising in his lungs, light enough to lift him off his feet.

He rushed to his dormitory, crashed onto his knees on the floor and buried his head in the covers to hide his sobbing. After a few moments the floods of tears had stopped, but he didn't know how to get rid of the hiccups that remained. _What is up with you? _he thought angrily_. You must have let that stupid woman bewitch you_. Draco scrubbed his face in cold water and looked in the mirror. His eyes were still sparkling. He smoothed down his hair, parting it carefully to the side. As he looked the colour faded from his face and he began to look more normal. The hiccups continued and it was nearly time for his Astronomy lesson. He paced around the floor, trying to remember what to do. Surely there was a way to stop them. He nearly jumped out of his skin when a door slammed downstairs. "Honey, I'm ho-ome," floated up the stairs. Blaise! Draco rushed to pull his bedcovers into their normal flat perfection. The hiccups had vanished, much to his relief.

"Hey Draco, you should have come with...wow, what are all those books?" Pansy had joined Blaise and they walked into the boys' dorm and sat on Blaise's bed. 'You really did go to the library."

"Yeah. You going to class now?"

Pansy smiled and held out her arm.

&&&&&######&&&&&

The Muggles sat down on the grass, untying their laces. Draco looked down at his own walking boots. He'd never worn boots like this before. These were Dylan's; he had shrunk them slightly to make them fit. He had unconsciously slipped back into a slouch and realising this, he corrected his posture so that he walked with arms swinging freely and head held high. The boots pinched slightly across his toes, their rubber soles cushioning him from the ground so that the gravel felt strangely soft as it crunched underfoot. Today was the day. He was determined to enter the darkness under the trees, learning whatever it was that Nature had to teach him. _"Some people think well, others observe well," _Dumbledore had said. _"You're the thinking kind. You won't understand other people, or master Neorancia until you learn to observe things. Observe closely. Nothing is unimportant."_

So he noticed the lush green grass, the soft ground underfoot. He crossed a marshy patch and then stopped to listen to a rolling, sparkling noise. It was a natural spring. He turned his head slightly as a large bird sitting above the spring, under bushes, flapped its wings. He couldn't see the water, but it enticed him forwards as surely as if it was whispering '_Accio, Accio_.'

The path turned uphill over a stile and disappeared into darkness. Draco was greeted at the beginning of the track, on the edge between light and dark, by a sentinel tree. The split in its trunk was as wide as Draco and revealed a roomy interior, the result of damage when the tree was young. Draco's eyes swept up the tree. Little twigs curled around it, moss and leaves clinging tightly to the bark. A bird chirped overhead. Wings fluttered. The noise of the water reminded him of crystal glasses, or sparkling wine. He turned and looked back at the bleached, sunlit landscape he had come from, yellow with flowering gorse. He was finished with that now. Gingerly he started stepping over the roots of the sentinel tree. _Forget yourself, Draco_, he thought. _You came here to learn. "Make wise improvement on the little you receive and in time you will understand the laws of Nature and Magic."_ It didn't sound easy.

The atmosphere inside the wood felt light and welcoming as though a loud buzzing noise had suddenly stopped. The little movements that caught his eye were just leaves, stirring in a slight breeze near the ground. Webs glittered in sunbeams. A large orb web linked two trees, fully five feet apart. Draco looked at it and blinked. _The spider must have jumped that_, he realised. He knew that once the first line was across the spider would use it to walk along with the next line – but for the first thread of silk to be attached it had to leap into space. _Five feet. I wonder how many attempts that took?_

Dylan would be outside now, fencing. Draco had helped him a couple of times over the last few days, but he found it hard to cope with the manual labour. It was a slow, patient job and Dylan was very thorough. He had stood in a paddock and a large jersey cow had detached herself from the herd and stood slobbering all over him while he scratched her back. "This is Mary," he'd said affectionately. "What are you grinning at Draco? She's a beauty, isn't she? That's Sue over there." Draco had declined to step over the fence and join them. The whole scene reminded him amusingly of Hagrid and his Thestrals – or his Hippogriffs – or even his Blast-Ended Skrewts. The old man was dotty and Draco certainly didn't want to join in with that kind of idiocy. Sue reached over the fence and blew grass-smelling breath in his face. He stared at the drops of water on her smooth black nose, the clean beige skin with the hairs all flat and smooth. Then she spoiled the illusion of beauty by sticking her tongue up her nostril.

Sunlight now blinded him for an instant, sweeping through the branches. Then it was cool and dim green as he passed, walking on. Dead logs lay everywhere. _Messy_. He looked up. Discs of something that looked like white parchment hung 30 feet above the ground. Around it the living leaves glinted yellow and white.

He'd never noticed such colours before. He dropped his gaze to the balls of bright orange fungus sprouting out of a dead log. _I've only walked six paces. Better get on, I'll never reach the top at this rate._

_&&&&######&&&&_

"Ooh, it's a monster," squeaked Pansy. Draco turned and looked round. Pressed against the door were three rather strange white circles, and two very large black ones – whatever it was, it looked grotesque. Then the girl stepped back from the window she'd pressed her face against, and opened the door. Draco turned the pages of his Arithmancy textbook to hide his smile. "Lisa, come and sit here," called Pansy. A couple of the other girls beamed at her, and Draco thought she would choose to sit by Su Li, but she slid gracefully into the empty seat next to Pansy, directly in front of Draco. She turned round to look at him. "Hi."

"You're in a dangerous place Lisa." Padma had leaned over to whisper, but Draco heard quite clearly. "Hermione _still_ isn't back." Lisa shrugged and started taking her book out.

Crabbe and Goyle had returned to classes the previous day, but Draco was finding they irritated him. Now that his head was taken up thinking about Neorancia, he couldn't seem to fit in their stupid comments as well. At breakfast this morning they had sat with young Marv Elddir, a second year of all things! The kid had bullied them exactly as Draco would have done – last year – and they just sat there lapping it up.

"Hey Lisa," he whispered. She turned around again. "What you doing after Potions this afternoon?"

She raised her eyebrows quizzically as she answered. "Practice. Charms classroom. See you there if you like."

Draco's mouth twisted into a smile. _Did I just ask her out or did she just ask me out? And why? She's not even pretty._ Although he couldn't put it into words, he knew why. Where Lisa went, laughter followed. And his head still ached from studying, he needed cheering. _What does she practise? _he wondered

&####&

Hermione Granger didn't return to her classes until Potions was nearly finished that afternoon. "Miss Granger, you're late," Snape said acidly, as she limped carefully towards her usual seat. He didn't give her a chance to say anything, walking over and slamming a copy of their homework down on her desk. _Good one, let her get started she'd never stop talking,_ Draco thought, looking over at Potter. He looked furious. Draco smirked. The dream team could just be so – emotional. _Sure makes it easy to wind them up_. He had carefully kept his face blank, watching for her reaction as she walked past him. There was none. _Interesting. You'd think she'd show anger, if not fear._

He didn't waste time wondering though. The potion was a tricky one and he didn't want to fail Potions altogether – as he surely would if he messed up another lesson. Snape nodded curtly as he collected the sample flask at the end of the lesson, saying "You'll pass this one." It wasn't quite the shade of cerulean it should be, more a pale cobalt, but probably the closest he'd got this term. He left quickly. Granger had catch-up work to collect, and he had no wish to be tempted into antagonising them – as he surely would if he remained. Besides which, he seemed to recall agreeing to a tryst in the Charms classroom.

A screechy noise emanated from the classroom as he approached. _Could it be a_ _Banshee?_ He peeked through the door, seeing only Lisa sitting in a chair with her back to him. Opening the door and laying his bag down just inside it, he went to sit in Professor Flitwick's box of cushions. "Well," he said, "I'm here. You're here. What now?" Lisa laughed, laughter that bounced off the walls and made the glass in the door quiver. "Hey, what is that thing?" asked Draco.

"It's a cello." Lisa finished tuning it, and laid her bow across the strings, gently manipulating them with bow and finger so that a deep hum filled the room, the melody rising and falling, trickling and soothing. For half an hour she played then she set the cello aside, stood up and pulled her robes over her head. "Wha..." Draco had thrown his hands up over his eyes, as soon as he realised what she was doing, but now he peeked through his fingers and then removed them altogether. Lisa was wearing a blue satiny tunic, tight enough that he could see the outline of her ribs. "Did I give you a fright," she giggled. "Come on, you can help me." She moved over to the side of the classroom and at her direction he used his wand to stack the desks and chairs out of the way – all except one chair. "No, leave that one as well," she said as he started moving the second to last chair. "I'll show you some of these exercises. Don't worry, you can keep your robes on."

She started alternately bending and stretching. "It's a waste of time really," she said, standing on one leg, "but at least it keeps me fit. Here, you try this. Hold onto your chair and bend your legs – like so." Draco could feel his face going pink. Was he really doing this? Whatever could have possessed him to come into a classroom, listen to soothing music and look like an idiot when he could have been building up that headache trying to cram in more information. He tried, but could only bend a little way. "You're really supple," he said in awe as she raised a leg almost as high as her head, standing perfectly still and leaning only lightly on the back of the chair.

After another half hour he collapsed among the cushions again while she packed her cello away. The headache might have gone, but every other muscle was aching. "Nearly dinner time," she said, sitting on the edge of the cushion box. "I come here every day. Don't know why I bother really, but I don't like to give up all my training. Might come in useful some day. You come if you like – you'll feel better for the exercise, and you can always do homework or something while I play."

"All right." _What am I letting myself in for now_, he wondered. "How come you do all this stuff though? It's not exactly curriculum."

"My parents," she said. "They made me do gymnastics, ballet, the lot. They had me enrolled at The Royal Academy of Music and Drama. Man, I was glad when I got the letter to come here." She turned to look at him, leaning back and holding onto the edge of the box with her hands. "Yeah, they're wizards all right," she said in answer to his accusing stare. "It's just they were from Moscow originally, and things are a bit different there. So that's my life history, how about yours?"

He sat and stared at her. He'd thought her knew her, this tiny girl with short black hair, freckles and a crooked nose. He tried to answer, but the words were lost in an unexpected fit of laughter. She grinned and jumped in among the cushions, rolling over and over so that the cushions jumped and spun. Draco pulled his wand out, stopped one it mid-air and turned it round and round, then sent it gliding like a butterfly around the room. "You'll have to teach me that," said Lisa. "Charms must be my worst subject." The cushion fell to the ground as he took his eyes off it.

"Monday afternoon," he said, when they had returned all the cushions to the box. She nodded, and sped off in the direction of the Ravenclaw tower.


	3. Montane Hope Chapter 3

Chapter 3 (of 16)

"You again," said Madam Pince as Draco leafed through the catalogue on her desk. A loud 'tuh' sound came from the direction of Hermione Granger's usual table.

"Well, well," he said, choosing a table further down. "Saturday morning, where else would we find Miss Granger?" _Takes a lot of study to make up for that muddy blood_ he thought – last week he would have said it as well. Once again she ignored him. He looked over to see her gazing into the distance as if she wasn't aware of him. The bruising had almost faded. Still watching, he slid his hand towards his wand pocket. Her eyelids flickered. "Jumpy today," he remarked, returning his hand to the desk. He had resolved not to let those three provoke him any more – after all, his expulsion would be a great embarrassment to his family.

She wasn't the only one with a lot of catch up study to do. He was in a far worse position, having fumed or dreamed or plotted his next piece of nastiness through every lesson for the first six weeks of term. He already knew that he could forget about learning Subneorancia if Snape didn't see that he was up to date with everything. Wearily, he opened his Arithmancy textbook and turned back three chapters to start taking notes. After a few minutes he pulled a napkin out of his pocket, licked his finger and dipped it into the light brown granules heaped in the centre of the folded napkin. He'd remembered the sugar this time, making a neat package of it in a napkin before Crabbe got hold of the container at breakfast-time. He couldn't imagine studying without it.

An hour later Potter and Weasley walked in, along with a fresh winter breeze that followed them through the door. Longbottom and Lovegood had arrived twenty minutes previously and Granger had sent several annoyed glances in their direction, while they chatted on, completely oblivious.

"Hermione, come on, don't you ever stop working?" Potter said, picking up a book – the ten-inch tome she'd been reading from the previous week.

"What's that, light reading?" asked Weasley.

Granger lowered her voice so that Draco had to strain to hear – thankfully the girl had an extremely clear voice. "I need to catch up. I missed four whole days and this year is really important. And I'm working on it Harry, really I am."

"Oh don't worry about that," said Potter. "Just come and have lunch now, we can go outside afterwards."

"No Harry." Her voice sounded strangled. "I want to get on with this. There was heaps of stuff I wanted to look up for preparing your house."

_His house?_ Longbottom and Lovegood joined them, Luna Lovegood holding her hand out to Granger. She still limped slightly, he noticed as they left. Ten minutes later he went to join Blaise and Pansy in the Great Hall. Crabbe and Goyle were at the other end of the table – with Marv Elddir, who was holding forth at great length on his wonderful flying abilities.

&&&&&#####&&&&&

A heavy bird whirred through the topmost branches, then another followed. They were pigeons, Draco realised, looking up at the white chest of one of them. Their heads looked ridiculously small against their large bodies. Not huge, but large in comparison to most of the birds he'd seen since he arrived. There was a little fantail living in the garden. When people came home it would flutter down to meet them, then follow them to the door. Dylan's mother flipped out if she ever thought it might come inside. She seemed to think it had supernatural powers.

Was that a frog? It was a noise that could only have been described as a croak. Footsteps sounded – some-one running up steps. He turned round but there was no-one there. _What wouldn't I give for some chocolate frogs?_ Already he was aware of a hollow feeling inside. While studying last year he had often found himself visualising a set of scales, representing his energy levels. The scales stayed level until the energy balance was zero, then it started tipping ever so slightly, drawing all the sugars out of his brain until he realised that he was either dizzy or unable to concentrate. Sometimes the dizziness could start when he'd been so engrossed in the subject that he hadn't realised he was getting hungry.

The ground was soft and dry, yielding gently to the pressure of his boots. The result of centuries of composting magic, a magic that started working perhaps even before any human settled the land he was standing on. He thought of the moon-like landscapes he had seen when he and his parents had first went to the volcanoes. The ground had been flat and dark, strewn with boulders and jagged-edged rock pillars. It had looked like a children's playground, a place you would want to explore. They hadn't walked down there; Narcissa had been too enthralled by the colours of the lakes and Lucius couldn't drag his eyes off the steaming hillside. In the middle of the path, tucked against a rock he had found a fumarole that spewed hot steam against their legs. Ever since then Draco suspected he apparated there first thing every morning – certainly he was never in the house when Draco and Dylan got up with the daylight.

Dylan's mother had been with them that day, eagerly pointing out the herbs and flowers that she most loved. They coloured the ground in lilac and white, yellow-green hebes and red rushes. Around them the mountains stood, conical, dredged as if with icing sugar and gently steaming. Dylan was as excited as a little kid – not because of the flowers, or the rocks or the sulphuric gases, but because he'd never seen snow before. They had passed a patch about six feet square and three inches deep and he'd wanted to make a snowman. Draco talked him out of it.

This soft ground he was standing on now was part of a volcano. _Has this hill ever looked so harsh and rugged?_ Draco doubted it. Yet there was no doubt that at some time, perhaps tens of thousands of years ago, lava had flowed down the slope on which he stood. A cow mooed below, out in the harsh white landscape beyond the trees. A loud vroom and clatter signalled a tipping truck on one of the farms.

Dylan was part of the earth. He lived it, breathed it as he daily worked, turning it over with a tractor, or with his own strength and a spade. Setting up fences and standing cows on it to graze, then taking them off again to allow the grass to replenish itself, drawing the nutrients up from down below. His wizardry showed a raw, untrained power. Draco had asked him to show what he could do, as he believed that living an almost Muggle lifestyle would surely have sapped the innate abilities of his cousin. Apparently not.

Dylan had never been to a school of any sort. In six months time (the school year started in February over here) he was going over to Australia for a year to get his licenses. For all of his nearly eighteen years he had learned at home, working with his father on the farm during the day and studying with him from old scrolls at night, after his mother had retired to her room. There was little use for magic around the house. Draco had never seen a place like it.

Australia had a different appearance entirely. He had wanted to stop there on the way over, but his father insisted that their time was limited and Apparating between countries was tiring enough without doing it twice. Draco had to admit he was right when they arrived.

_Don't those birds ever quit their racket?_ The pips, chirps and warbles continued; the noise of the stream now fainter. Draco initially thought the tree ahead of him was one, but when he looked saw that it was two, entwined around a large rock at the roots they curved and embraced upwards well above his head before separating, spreading their canopies turned away from each other. He placed his hand on the rough surface of one of them as he walked past, then gazed at the intricate designs etched on the bark. The thumping noise sounded again and he realised it was not footsteps at all, but someone hammering on a roof below.

&####&

Draco clung to the back of a chair and lifted his leg back, leaning forward slightly as he did so. "Hold that," called Lisa, flipping back on to her hands and over. "Count to twenty."

How on earth can you talk and do that at the same time?" Draco asked as she completed her circuit of backflips. He lowered his leg and lifted the other, feeling the muscles tighten and strain.

"Practise – 14 years of practise." She had conjured a mat from somewhere. He joined her, fluent with the moves now. He put his hands round her waist and lifted her, spun, threw, caught, then held her hands as she finished the routine. "This is heaps better with a partner," she gasped. "I'm glad you came – I usually have to wait till the holidays and practise that with my dad." Draco rubbed his arms kneading the strain out of them. At four foot eight inches, she was much heavier than she looked.

"What are we doing for Halloween this year?" he asked. "We should have another school ball since you've taught me so much."

"You're a quick learner Draco – and I suspect you're practising. Most people wouldn't be this good after a week." Draco rolled his eyes back – prompting a fit of giggles. Fact was, he'd nearly been 'caught' practising so many times it wasn't funny. He seemed to be able to read for hours without any-one disturbing him, but the moment he threw the books aside with the intention of doing a few exercises, a door would slam downstairs, or Zabini would charge up to the dorm for something he'd forgotten. Luckily they all moved about like a herd of elephants. Snape was the dangerous one, you never quite knew when he was about.

"Fact is," Lisa gasped once the vision of Draco being caught with his robes tied out of the way had subsided, "us girls have got some plans."

"Plans?"

"You've lost your touch Draco. You've almost become nice – and I sure hope that's none of my doing."

Draco shook his head.

"Hermione wasn't so bad when she came back. But now she's caught up with everything she's getting very uppity again. We need to bring her down a peg or two – not hurt her, just humiliate, since you're not up to the job any more. Me, Pansy, Su Li, Padma, Parvati and Mandy. Girls' night out after the feast. You won't tell, will you?"

"Of course not, what do you think I am."

"She's so highly strung, you just can't tell what she'll do. She's worse than any of the Ravenclaws, even Luna."

"What are you going to do?"

"Come on Draco, that would be telling. We're not going to push her out of the Astronomy tower, if that's what you're hoping but – well… no, you can't come. Let's just say, Halloween's a time for tricks."

"Show me that visualisation thing then."

"Alright. I'll bet you no-one else in the school knows this trick. You have to close your eyes – tense every muscle, then relax." Draco peeked under his eyelids at her. She was following her own advice, and her voice became softer as she continued.

"Imagine a box inside your head. Now look at the clutter, the thoughts that whir back and forth. In the corner there's a broom. Find it, imagine it sweeping the floor. Sweep everything up and put it in the box – don't examine the thoughts, just put them in. Everything should be bare now, just the big box sitting in the middle of a clean room. Look closely, it's got doors all round the bottom. Find the door marked 'visualise' and open it"

Draco tried. A few thoughts were still scurrying about, trying to avoid the broom when everything was supposed to be bare. He sent Granger and her ginger cat into the box _(what are they doing there?_). The cat jumped out while he was chasing after another thought. He put it back in, then watched it jump out again. Someone tapped him on the shoulder as he held the broom. It was Granger. "How dare you interfere with my cat," she was yelling, "Crookshanks is a free spirit." _All right, so they're not going in the box._ She sat down in a corner with Crookshanks on her lap. The other thoughts meekly stayed put. _What are those two doing in my head anyway?_ He was wondering this when he realised Lisa's voice was still describing what he should be seeing – she was on sandy beaches listening to waves while he had got lost in his thoughts.

He opened his eyes and waited for her to finish. She had wandered far far away. When she finally opened her eyes and saw him watching her she said, "It takes practise. You can't expect to succeed first time."

"I'll see you at the feast tomorrow night" she called as she ran to change before dinner. Draco went back to the dorm. He'd smuggled in some food earlier so that he could have more time to study. On his way there he passed little Marv Elddir. Crabbe and Goyle were with him and he was telling some story about a werewolf that had almost killed him, but he'd killed it instead.

&####&

Draco woke up suddenly. Zabini was snoring gently. Crabbe and Goyle were silent, which meant they probably weren't there. He tried to snatch the images of the dream, but they fled. He remembered a cat. A ginger cat with a squashed face that had jumped on to his lap and sat there, purring. Some-one else had been there. He was sorry the dream was gone.

Stretching, he stood up and bent over to pick up the book that had fallen to the floor when he fell asleep. His stomach growled with hunger. Late though it was, he decided to take the risk of sneaking into the kitchen.

Elddir, Crabbe and Goyle were in the common room. He suspected Crabbe and Goyle were both sound asleep. Elddir was sitting under one of the lights, turning the pages of a book that looked suspiciously like children's fairy tales. Draco crept past unnoticed.

The journey to the kitchen was uneventful. A house elf brought him some food, and laid a place for him, giving him a little bag of cakes to take away with him once he'd finished, 'in case he should wake up hungry later.' Draco rather doubted he would, after that meal. On the way back he crept behind a suit of armour as Professor McGonagall swept past. She reached the corner and Draco breathed in, ready to leave his hiding place, when he heard footsteps. He saw McGonagall pause, and look back. She moved on, apparently deciding it had been nothing. Draco wasn't so sure. As soon as she'd gone he ran in the direction of the noise. He was a prefect after all; it was surely his responsibility if there were students out of bed.

Another noise pulled him up sharply. He pressed quickly against the wall. A voice he knew whispered clearly, "You idiot Neville, some-one might have heard." He knew that voice, he just couldn't quite place it. As he stood there wondering, a cat rubbed against his leg, purring, and Draco suddenly decided it was time to die. That was Crookshanks and Granger – he still couldn't remember the details of the dream – but it had been good. If the cat was here, then that was Granger's disembodied voice only a few feet away.

The footsteps moved away. He let them get round the corner before following. The front door swung open, apparently holding itself slightly ajar for a few seconds before quietly falling closed again. Draco hesitated. If they were leaving the castle, surely there was only one place they would go. Last time he'd looked though Hagrid's window he'd been seen, and ended up having to serve detention thanks to Potter and Granger's plotting, not long after. If not Hagrid's, it would be the forest. Slightly reluctantly, Draco turned round and headed back to the dungeon. He wasn't foolhardy.

He did wish though, as he drifted back to sleep, that he could be a nice normal guy and dream about someone like Lisa.

&#####&

The Halloween feast was as good as ever, though Draco thought he detected a slight tension among the students, especially the older ones. Pansy put every-one's thoughts into words when she whispered, "What's it going to be this year; trolls, petrified cats or escaped convicts?"

"When we're old we can write about our exciting school days," Blaise replied. The two of them had been hanging onto each other all evening. Draco scowled. Potter, Weasley and Granger were chatting animatedly at the Gryffindor table. No doubt they knew what great disaster was just round the corner, they'd probably spent most of the previous night planning for it.

That morning he'd received his first owl in three days. His mother had been rather… occupied since Lucius was imprisoned. It was no wonder, he speculated angrily, that she couldn't remember her only son. Her note informed him that his father was going to ask for release on good behaviour. Draco knew it wouldn't work. All summer he'd had his hopes raised, and then smashed again when he learned that his father was still imprisoned. Circumstances had changed now, and since the dementors no longer controlled Azkaban his chances of escape or release were far poorer. The watchwizards guarding the island had some brains. They wouldn't let a Malfoy go as long as the Dark Lord was still loose.

Draco glanced at Elddir. The boy had purple circles under his eyes, as though he hadn't slept for a week. Perhaps that was why, as soon as the feast was over Draco went into a bathroom to check his own appearance. He didn't look so bad, just rather pale. He was making a mental note to spend more time on the Quidditch pitch – it is possible to study too much, after all – when he realised that he recognised the rather crumpled grey sock just visible on a foot in one of the cubicles. Instead of leaving the bathroom, he smoothed his hair down and leaned back against the wall, arms folded.

Potter and Weasley emerged together. Draco raised his eyebrows. "Well, I never would have thought… you and the Weasel. And there I was thinking Blaise and Pansy were on the outside edge of disgusting."

He fingered his wand lightly, not intending to use it, just prepared in case they over-reacted. To his surprise Potter threw his head back and laughed, punching Weasley on the arm. "Whaddya reckon Ron? I wouldn't go spreading any rumours, Malfoy. I've heard a few things I could use about you."

Draco stiffened. Potter knew about his mother? He'd thought Weasley's remark a fortnight ago had been a shot in the dark. "Never mind that," he said, abruptly. "I want to know exactly what you, Longbottom and Granger were doing out of bed last night."

They both looked stunned, Weasley's normal ruddy colouring fading almost white. Draco immediately decided that there was no need for them to know that he hadn't followed them outside.

"Go on," he said. "Let's hear it – if you don't want me to report you to Professor Snape, that is." They looked at each other. Potter cleared his throat.

"Ron here – well, you know he doesn't like spiders. Hermione figured that the only way to cure him is by letting him uh, spend time with them."

Draco looked very disbelieving. "It would be better if you told the truth, Potter," he said silkily, in a parody of Snape's tones. Weasley shuddered; he obviously didn't like spiders, not even talk about them.

"That is the truth Malfoy." Potter looked away anxiously. "We'll take you with us tonight if you want to see, Ron's not too keen on going back."

"Are you serious Harry, he could blow everything," he heard Weasley say as the pair hurried away. _What were they hiding?_ He didn't for one moment believe they'd been doing anything other than making a clandestine potion in that toilet cubicle. He was sure he'd caught the scent of crushed herbs as he walked in. That wasn't unusual, only last week he'd found a first year trying to make veritaserum in a cauldron under his bed. But Potter, Weasley, Granger and Longbottom? He shook his head. If they were up to something, it was sure to be important.


	4. Montane Hope Chapter 4

Chapter 4 (of 16)

The castle was quiet, very quiet, later that night. Draco was sure Potter and Longbottom could hear his heart beating as they waited. However hard he tried, he couldn't stop his hands trembling. Both the others appeared as calm as if they were going for a walk down to the lake in broad daylight. He tried the visualisation thing to clear his mind, but with no better results than last time. It was most distracting, trying to stop thinking and discovering that a certain young lady and her pug-faced cat absolutely refused to be tidied away.

"She's not coming," he said finally. Potter stirred under the cloak. Longbottom was leaning uncomfortably against Draco's shoulder.

"I think you're right," said Potter. 'We'd better go." They walked carefully on the grass, so as not to make a sound. _I can't believe I'm doing this. On Halloween; anything could be about._

"Harry!" The game-keeper's large form moved swiftly towards them. Fangs whined by his side, his nose was tied with a piece of soft cloth so that he couldn't bark. "Though' I'd meet you here, Aragog, ain't ever happy 'bou' waiting."

As they entered the forest they removed the cloak and Potter laid it carefully in a tree. "Wha's he doin' here," demanded Hagrid, seeing Draco. "Where're Ron an' Hermione."

"It's all right," whispered Potter. "Ron's having a sleep, and Hermione didn't turn up."

Longbottom's eyes were round and Draco suspected he wasn't as keen on the forest as Potter and Hagrid seemed to be. "The girls had a little surprise planned for Miss Granger," he told Potter. Potter looked suspiciously at him, but he said no more. They'd find out soon enough. If he hadn't been here he half thought he might have been somewhere near the Astronomy tower, waiting to see what happened.

Deep in the forest the three of them, and Fangs, stopped in a clearing. Hagrid had left them a moment before. Draco heard Longbottom make a small sound, almost a whimper, and looked up, a taunt ready on his lips. The remark died unsaid as he saw several spiders approach, the heavy black bodies pendulous between their long, clicking legs. Less than eight feet from the students they stopped, leaving a gap. Draco glanced behind him, finding to his relief that they weren't completely surrounded. Not that that would make much difference. Draco had pet spiders at home – he'd had several over the years – and he knew how fast they could move when they wanted to. He fixed his eyes straight ahead, on the gap in the circle where the spiders had shuffled aside to let another through, not even thinking to gloat at the fact that Longbottom was now trembling so much he could hear his teeth chattering. The spider advancing on them from behind its mates was larger than any of the others, larger than a horse. Draco could see its eight eyes gleaming, the short stubby palps pulsating six feet above the ground. Three feet off the ground the jaws hung, and Draco observed the sharp fangs that nearly met at the points. The bristles over the eyes were as thick as wire.

No-one got a bigger fright than Draco when this monster spoke, but the words were nothing out of the ordinary. "Where is Hagrid?" the animal asked. _Just what you would expect one of Hagrid's pets to say._

Potter replied in simple phrases, as if talking to a child, "He is coming. He is bringing food, and we have the potion."

As if on cue, Hagrid arrived with a large beast on his shoulder – a dead bull, Draco surmised. He laid it down and set to chopping it into tiny pieces with an axe. When he was done, Longbottom stepped forward, still shaking, pulled out a tin and paintbrush from under his robes and painted each lump of meat with the bright blue potion. Potter pulled Draco forward, handing him an identical tin and brush.

"What's all this for," he asked.

"It's medicine. Aragog's children are sick."

"That was Aragog? The great lump that spoke?" The spider hissed, and Hagrid chuckled.

"Ye've no' learnt yer lesson yet Draco. I'd have though' efter Buckbeak ye'd know better."

When every piece of meat had been covered in the potion Hagrid took Harry and Neville's hands and drew them back out of the clearing. Draco and Fangs followed. The spiders clicked their jaws, and behind them the noise was like a rushing river, although Draco, looking back, saw that after each spider approached the meat it left the clearing completely, without rushing or pushing.

"Harry, are you crazy or what?" Draco demanded as soon as they left the forest. Harry grinned. He hadn't shown the least sign of fear all evening and Draco suddenly realised that he'd unintentionally used his first name. They collected the invisibility cloak and started to walk back. Draco was sure it was after midnight, and hoped he'd manage to sleep the rest of the night. Merlin knew, he could do with it. They were almost at the castle when they heard a scream. Harry was out from under the cloak and gone so fast that he was almost out of sight before Draco gathered his wits. He and Neville followed more slowly, jogging in the direction the noise had come from.

When they arrived at the bottom of the Astronomy tower Granger was kneeling under a low window, showing Harry her scraped knee. She looked tired, her face streaked with mud – or something. "They've got my wand," she was saying. Inside the tower a girl giggled.

Harry whispered something to her, and jumped through the open window. Granger looked up at Draco, her eyes blank as if she didn't really see him. Close up her hair was tousled and she looked even more tired. "You take her back to the castle," he said to Neville, as he jumped through the window after Harry.

"Draco," he heard almost immediately. It was barely more than a whisper. He turned round to see Lisa crouching behind a statue just down the corridor. She was crying. He pulled her to her feet.

"Go. Now. If I catch you here… you weren't here, remember!"

She gave him a frightened look, and ran. Harry was already well up the stairway, and Draco followed. Reaching the first landing, he found Harry with his wand out, covering two of the girls. "There's two more ahead," he called to Draco. Draco heard their feet scampering on the stone floor as they ran, and took a deep breath before he sprinted up the next thirty steps. They turned on him but he already had his wand out, and their wands flew harmlessly through the air towards him before they could hex him.

"Where's Pansy," he demanded when he had brought the twins downstairs, and they were all together on the first landing. Harry gave him a sharp look. Parvati shrugged.

Draco lost his temper. "I know she was with you. The four of you deserve to be expelled. That was disgusting behaviour. At the very least, you should all serve a week's worth of detentions. Hogwarts is a respectable school – it is not a place where students form gangs to break the rules and bully other students. You will all wait right there." He turned and walked down the stairs with Harry. Behind him he heard Su Li whisper, "is he going to get a teacher? Can we really be expelled for this?"

"Look, Harry," he said. Harry looked at him quizzically. "My hands are tied on this. I could go right now and fetch McGonagall or Snape, and I would be out of here. I'm on my last warning, prefect or not, if I'm caught breaking the rules I'll be sent home along with those girls." Draco looked him in the eyes. "This is your decision. Granger's your friend. If you want to turn them in, that's fine, I'll go and get that teacher."

"My call, huh?" Harry didn't break eye contact, a situation Draco was finding very uncomfortable. After a minute he handed Draco five of the wands he was carrying. "You'd better give them back. I believe the damaged one might be Miss Pansy's." He turned and walked swiftly away.

_dadadadadadadadadaadadad_

Why exactly had Potter saved him that day? If he'd said the right word, he could have had Draco expelled. The girls would probably have been let off with detentions. For most of them it was the first time they'd been caught breaking the rules – and Granger really wasn't that well liked outside of Gryffindor House. And why had he gone running after them in the first place, he could have let well alone. It wasn't to save Lisa, he'd spoken some pretty harsh to her the next day. That wasn't necessary, she'd been too distracted to attend to her practise and had started crying as soon as he mentioned their Halloween pranks.

He stopped against a tree, and watched a tiny spider crawling up his arm. For some strange reason the encounter with Aragog and his family had not turned him against spiders – he still thought they were beautiful.

Moving on again, he picked his way over tree roots and up worn, muddy steps, rarely glancing up at the heights of the trees towering over him. It was beginning to feel cold. The vines seemed to weave nets around him. The undergrowth was dense. He looked at the black strands, thicker than his wand, weaving and tumbling among the trees. _What am I doing here?_

His thoughts started to race, and he sat on a tree root while he tried to organise them. _I am a dark wizard, in a dark place._ He looked up. The very tops of the trees were light and golden.

_This is safe, they told me it was safe_. He looked around, but the darkness was forbidding and oppressive. There was a whirring sound as a large bird flew overhead, crashing heavily from tree to tree. He couldn't understand it. He got up and went on. _The wood doesn't want me here._ As he walked, this awareness crept further into his bones. _The plants themselves are not dead and empty, it is their spirits I can feel._ He shuddered, but walked on. _Such a place is safe for those who are pure in heart. Am I pure in heart?_ He had to sit down again to think about this.

_dadadadadadadadadadadadaadaada_

"Malfoy." It was Potter. Draco stopped and turned aside as the other students hurried past.

"Hermione's OK. She's not going to report. I just thought you should know."

"Thanks." Draco was very relieved. For the past few hours he'd been wondering if Granger would report the incident, deciding that she almost certainly would. Then Snape would find out that he, Draco, had been there. He'd half expected to be expelled by evening. Taking the opportunity, he asked the other question that had been on his mind all day. "Potter, what's going on with those spiders? I mean, feeding them, I didn't think you lot were that loopy." Potter furrowed his brow and turned aside, opening the door of a classroom. Once inside he sat on a desk, Draco sat on the one opposite.

"It's like I said. They're sick."

"So?"

"We're helping them. Dumbledore says we should be kind to the Dark Creatures."

"_Dumbledore_ knows you're sneaking out of the castle at night?"

Potter shook his head. 'Dumbledore knows many things – but I don't believe he knows that."

"This isn't part of… Do you think you're going to win the war against You-Know-Who by feeding giant spiders?"

"Why would that interest you? I understood you were on the – ah, other side." Potter looked directly at him, so that Draco felt like squirming again. He didn't know what to answer. Eventually he decided as a representative of the Malfoy family he should be diplomatic. He shrugged his shoulders. Harry's mouth twitched, but Draco decided, just this once, he wasn't going to challenge him for irreverent thoughts.

"In that case," said Potter, "the answer is yes. We do believe it will help. At least Dumbledore does."

"And you just hang on everything that Muggle-lover says, don't you? It's not surprising, with Mudblood and the Weasel for friends." Draco would have left after delivering that insult – he didn't honestly care who the famous Harry Potter chose for his friends – but curiosity made him stay.

"Dumbledore has been right in everything so far, Malfoy. If he wasn't I would have died in front of the mirror of Erised."

"That _really_ happened then?"

"Did you think it didn't?" That was exactly what Draco had thought. Everyone in the school had been talking about it at the time, but not one of the adults would say anything. _Why spiders?_ _How does he think they're going to help him?_

"Is it only spiders you lot are helping?" Draco asked, curious. Potter shook his head.

"Sorry Malfoy, that's more than I can tell you. As you say – there is a war on and the last person I would trust would be…"

"Yeah, I get the message," Draco drawled. He stood up and left without a backwards glance.

_dada_

Pansy was in trouble. First pink steam had whistled from her wand, then it had burst into flame. Draco flicked his wand and doused the fire with a stream of water.

"Oh – bloody Hell! Stop laughing you morons," she moaned, tears streaming down her soot-blackened face. "Just look at this mess." She threw the wand on the floor and stalked out. Professor Flitwick's squeaky voice pulled the class' attention back to him. They were learning air-writing, which he assured them had great purpose in achieving the control needed in conjuring such things as pumpkin juice, sugar and small animals from their wands. Draco sent a small stream of spiders scuttling out of his wand, while he was talking, then scooped them up before any-one noticed. He'd mastered that spell years ago. He quietly moved his chair back and picked up Pansy's wand.

The wand was black with soot. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped it clean, then tried the spider spell. Nothing happened. He concentrated harder and a single spider walked out of the end of the wand. While Flitwick talked, he tried simple spells, all of them taking an excessive amount of concentration. _I wonder if that's why she's so bad-tempered._ He folded a scrap of parchment into an airplane and chucked it at Blaise. The answer came back a minute later. No. Blaise had never swapped wands with Pansy. He scribbled an instruction below the answer and sent the plane back.

_dada_

After dinner Draco returned to the common room to find that all the sofas had turned bright pink, there was a huge yellow sun hanging in the middle of the ceiling and Pansy was lying on the floor giggling. The younger students looked confused and even a little frightened. Blaise caught his eye and winked, while Pansy sent a stream of bumble bees into the air. They gathered in a cloud and headed for Crabbe and Goyle. Goyle fainted and Crabbe left the common room hurriedly, while Elddir looked slightly amused as the bees popped gently and vanished.

"I'm scared," said Blaise, as Draco approached. "Really scared."

Draco's eyes sparkled with good humour. "I thought something like this might happen – after I tried to use that wand. Whose wand was it?" he asked Pansy.

"My grandmother's - oh… look at this." She had levitated a sofa. Several of the first years scrambled for the door.

"Uh, Pansy dear," said Blaise, nervously. Aside to Draco he whispered, "I don't think this was a good idea. I've _never_ seen power like that. When she first picked up my wand she knocked a hole in the ceiling and nearly flooded the entire dungeon. Lucky she was able to fix it."

Draco crouched beside her on the floor and used his own wand to conjure snow and butterflies till he got fed up – long before Pansy had given up. "Here Pansy,' he said eventually. "You'd better take your wand and give Blaise his back. We'll get you a new one for Christmas." Pansy reluctantly let go of the wand, then jumped up and kissed Draco, knocking him onto his back. Blaise helped him up.

"If I didn't know why she'd done that," said Blaise, "I'd be challenging you to a duel."

**Author's note**: Do the _'dada'_s look ridiculous or what? Definitely _what_ - but I don't have time to sit here and figure out how to put in a paragraph break that doesn't disappear in the final copy - and letters don't seem to diappear. Apologise to all readers for hurting your eyes, I may decide on a different combination for next chapter. Like _'eheheheh'_ or _'gogogog'_.


	5. Montane Hope Chapter 5

Chapter 5 (of 16)

Christmas came around far too fast. Draco had decided weeks before that there was no point in going home. Two or three times he'd gone back to Madam Pomfrey for some more of the strawberry flavoured medicine. It made him cry every time, but once the tears were finished he always found enough energy to go on studying.

Lucius' appeal had failed. He was still in prison, but his mother wrote that he was being well fed and taking classes. Her picture had been in Witch Weekly a couple of times now. Each time Draco tried to ignore it – after he'd taken careful note of the reporter's name. There would be time for revenge later and few of the students would recognise her as his mother, provided no-one pointed it out. As far as he could tell, his family wasn't the subject of school gossip… meantime, he had the downfall of two or three reporters to plot.

He was glad he didn't have to see either of them. Her letter replying to his request to stay had been short and dismissive, _'of course, Draco, whatever you want…'_ a fact that had made him unaccountably angry. Not that he'd expected her to make a fuss over him staying, but at least if she'd said she was disappointed, he'd know she cared. He threw her latest box of sweets under his bed and flounced out, going to sit down by the lake and watch the bitter wind whip up the surface of the water. No-one else was staying. He threw stones at the water, wondering morosely how he was going to get through the holidays without Lisa to laugh with. If his parents had been together he would have been looking forward to going home right now, but as it was… he threw another stone into the water, hearing it break the surface with a satisfying 'plop'.

The morning after the last day of term Draco woke to a castle that looked, sounded and felt abandoned. Empty. Stiller and more quiet than he'd ever seen it before. There was no-one now to interrupt him when he practised Lisa's exercises, or come barging into the dorm when he was trying to read. He could fly over the Quidditch pitch at any time of day or wander in the snow that fell the day after Christmas until his skin turned blue and his fingers and cheeks pinched painfully when he returned to the castle. Even some of the teachers were missing, and the long house tables had been pushed against the wall, forcing him to suffer the ordeal of facing Potter, Weasely, Granger, Weaselette and Loony Lovegood over nearly every meal.

After Christmas Snape returned. Draco considered approaching him about learning Subneorancia again. He had finally caught up with all his classwork and was spending hours each week studying anything that interested him. Before he could ask Snape, however, Dumbledore invited him into his office.

Draco had never been inside Dumbledore's office before. The portraits of ex-headmasters on the wall all snoozed, except for one old guy who winked at him and waved. That was Phineas Nigellus Black, an ancestor of Draco's, and former headmaster. The phoenix he had heard so much about – it was reputed to have saved Potter several times – stood alertly in a golden cage. Some of the instruments on the desk Draco recognised, others were unlike anything he had ever seen. He looked at one, discovering that it was just two pieces of metal in the shape of dolphins balancing on a bar. The whole contraption swung back and forth without falling when touched.

"Muggle ornament," said Dumbledore. "Very clever piece of work." He pulled up a seat with his wand and asked Draco to sit on it.

"Now Draco," he said, tapping his long fingers together, "I understand you asked Professor Snape some weeks ago if he would teach you Subneorancia. I wonder why you asked that." He looked over his glasses at Draco, but didn't seem to expect an answer. Draco didn't answer.

"Professor Snape continues to be very busy. I, however, am prepared to teach you myself to start with– if you have decided you still want to learn."

Draco nodded. Since first finding out about Subneorancia the idea had so taken hold of him that he lived for the sake of learning.

"That is well. We start with simple things – the same skills you use to cast a spell, but a little more advanced. You will learn to observe, and to order your thoughts. The greatest mystery a wizard can learn is to know how to control the mind, and bring every faculty and power to bear on its operations."

With that he showed Draco out. "Professor McGonagall," Draco heard him say as she approached them. "Could you fetch Miss Hermione Granger please. I have a few words I wish to say to her."

_hahahahahahahahahahah_

Draco stopped as the slope levelled out, breathing fast. His stomach started growling, turning over and over on itself, but he paid no attention. Ahead and looking up he saw a grand expanse of dull green. Open, welcome green. He knew it was only trees, but it felt like… like a cathedral. A pleasant place to be, where spirits were light. It was time to go forward and up.

The undergrowth flourished, ferns dripping off the tree trunks. A single tree fern, black and thick, soared over his head, branching out in the lower part of the upper canopy. He looked around and saw two more, taller ones that basked in full daylight. The creepers that had so intimidated him earlier weaved thick nets, twining and dropping – like silk stockings, he decided. A laugh sounded from uphill. Muggles. He crept off the path.

Crouched on his haunches, he waited for the intruders to pass. Small plants pressed against his legs, leaves flapped in front of his face. He couldn't find it in himself to feel impatient at the slow pace with which the Muggles travelled, although every noise carried to where he squatted.

Once they had gone he waited a moment then continued on. It really was cold now.

The hill demanded attention. Sometimes the steps were slippery. Sometimes the path was strewn with a myriad of tree roots. Draco noticed marks in the soft ground where Muggles had slipped. On the steeper bits they were almost everywhere and he felt superior about not slipping – his footing was sure and firm, if slow. The path wound down and around. When he could see open sky on either side through the trees he realised that he must be walking on a ridge. The ground was grey and rustled slightly as he stepped on the fallen, dead leaves.

Dylan wanted to marry a witch! Draco had raised his eyebrows when he mentioned his concern. "You surprise me."

"Surprise? Some-one's got to continue the line."

"Dylan, your line has been adulterated by your darling mother. Besides, what about all those Muggles? You're surely not going to abandon dear Anna? And Sophie is convinced she's your one and only. And Emily…"

Dylan shook his head. "I'm not going to _marry_ any of them."

Draco frowned, his eyes cold. Meddling with Muggles was bad enough, but going with a girl you knew you'd never have a future with - it went against all his training and conscience.

"Do you know any decent witches at your school? I mean, ones that wouldn't mind living on a farm, among Muggles."

Draco shook his head.

"Oh – and it helps if they're pretty."

Draco smirked. "Tell you what. I've got a school year book in my trunk. I couldn't figure out why I packed it." He had gone upstairs to get it. It fell open automatically at the girls in his year. He glanced at Lisa, on the end of the front row, but his gaze as always was drawn to the girl with bushy brown hair and brown eyes, waving from the middle of the row.

Dylan couldn't decide between the Patil twins in the end, until flipping back a page. Draco winced when he saw where he was looking. "No Dylan, she'd burn you that one. Steer clear." Even in the photo there was a certain look of determination about the way Ginny Weasley held her head. The year book was still in the living room. Dylan occasionally glanced at the Patil twins, but seemed to be trying to memorise Ginny's photo. Draco felt himself unaccountably annoyed that he'd never even mentioned Lisa, and had passed over Hermione Granger with a brief comment – "pretty."

That girl just would not stay out of his dreams. He remembered a few instances early in the year, but it seemed to have gotten worse after Christmas when Pansy had collected Crookshanks' kitten from Luna Lovegood. She'd called it Proctor. Crookshanks himself had followed Pansy and Proctor into the common room several times, hissing at Elddir till the boy started chasing him out every time he saw him. Then Crookshanks started wandering through his dreams too, and usually Hermione Granger followed.

_hohohohohohohohohohohoho_

Draco's first Subneorancia lesson was on the Monday before the New Year. He had sat in the empty Transfiguration classroom with Dumbledore, and followed the instructions to clear his mind.

"Come back Draco." Draco looked up. He was smiling. "You've obviously had some practise at this. I warn you now that when you repeat this exercise I am going to perform a little spell. It is part of the art of Occlumency. If you can clear your mind completely and remain unemotional – much as you did a moment ago – I should find nothing at all when I start probing your thoughts."

Draco concentrated hard on clearing every corner – thankful that Crookshanks wasn't wandering around in his head. Nevertheless, he was anxious about the whole thing and although Dumbledore assured him he was doing very well, he still felt quite fearful that he might leave something out. The image of his mother kissing a strange man, Pansy lying on the floor bubbling over with happiness as she conjured bumble bees or worse, the girl that stubbornly refused to be 'boxed'.

After half an hour Dumbledore asked him to take his wand out and try the spell. Draco could get no further than some cloudy wisps. When Dumbledore asked him what he saw he could provide only a few vague images.

"That is fine Draco. I didn't get much further with you. You would be well advised to spend time getting in touch with your emotions – no more of Poppy's pink medicine. Don't do anything silly, just practise being angry and I think next time you will fare better. It is possible to be too good at concealing things. Come in Miss Granger, Mr Malfoy and I are nearly done."

Hermione Granger looked suspiciously at Draco. An unpleasant thought occurred to him – she had thought the passage on Subneorancia important enough to read out, perhaps she had also decided it was important enough to spend time learning.

_hehe_

Almost too soon school started again. Draco had missed the company during the day, but he hadn't realised how much he relished having the dormitory all to himself. Zabini wasn't bad, but Crabbe and Goyle snored like diesel trucks, and Nott wasn't much better.

Lisa was on top form. She'd been practising for several hours a day during her holidays and had lost weight. The first day back she started teaching Draco the new floor routines she had learned, and coaching him further in lifting. With Quidditch practices and the Subneorancia lessons as well, Draco found very little spare time to think of anything else. As much as possible he practised the Subneorancia skills, so that within a fortnight he could recover the thoughts Dumbledore made available to him – but he still couldn't reach any of the concealed ones.

"Just as well," Dumbledore laughed. "Where would the world be if Voldemort" -Draco winced at the name "could come in here and read my mind. He knows all these useful little spells, of course." Draco shuddered. _How many wizards know this – and can you tell when they're reading your mind?_ Dumbledore, of course, always told him what he was about to do and said the spell aloud.

Pansy was a different person since she'd returned. She and Blaise had gone to Diagon Alley the day before school started to buy her new wand. She showed it proudly to Draco as soon as she saw him, "Mountain Ash and dragon heartstring – unusual. Isn't it beautiful." She had never had a new wand before. Now she was an extremely scary witch – Draco hoped that the concentrated power was simply due to the difficulties of using the other wand, and would soon diminish. Then Luna arrived at the Slytherin table one morning with a ginger and black tabby kitten with a peculiarly squashed looking nose. The kitten proved devoted to its new mistress, and took an instant dislike to some of the other pets – and people - in the Slytherin common room. Nowadays it was not unusual for students to slip out and talk or play exploding snap in the corridors when either Pansy or Proctor turned up.

Draco's resolve to avoid antagonising the Gryffindors had slipped somewhat over the holidays, but now that every-one was back he rarely saw them. When he did spot the three of them, and occasionally Longbottom and Ginny Weasley as well, they were always huddled together talking animatedly. He heard enough of their supposedly inaudible conversations to know that they were still preparing Potter's 'house', and that they were all involved in extra Defence against the Dark Arts tuition, along with a number of other students. Last year it had been an illicitly formed club, but Dumbledore had approved and this year the new Defence against the Dark Arts teacher taught it. Draco had been tempted to go along, but didn't think he could put up with the company. Besides, he was busy enough.

Long before Draco felt he had mastered Occlumency Dumbledore had moved to Observation and Meditation – using candle flames, found objects, rocks, even crystals with jagged, gleaming edges. Using a variation of the air writing Flitwick had showed him, Dumbledore instructed him to cover whichever classroom or room they worked in with colours, patterns, pictures, anything he liked. When he had finished Dumbledore would restore normality with a sweep of his hand. It was weird, but fun. Over time the colours he chose changed, on some days they would be bright and vibrant – Pansy or Lisa type colours, others days muted and grey. Somehow, on the grey days Granger always seemed to be striding around his thoughts. Dumbledore had found her and Crookshanks there one time, and had burst out laughing, then informed him regretfully that Miss Granger was not so good as he at concealing her thoughts, but he was quite certain there were no Draco Malfoys lurking in her mind.

_hahahahahahahahahahah_

The path turned up hill again. Like a snake it meandered and rose and fell. Steadily Draco walked up and down and along ridges. At one stage he passed a large rock, sitting all on its own under a little opening in the canopy. It was grooved and furrowed so much that the surface looked like the pleats in a newly pressed kilt. The trees over head dripped water on this rock dissolving the stone ever so slightly each time the drops ran their regular path from top to bottom. A little further on Draco climbed from rock to rock steeply up a stream bed. The water was about a foot below, cut deeply into the rock. He could see it rushing down hill, deepening and changing the path as it went.

Occasional glimpses through the trees showed a vast area of flat grassland. Little fences and miniature trees carved the land into small blocks. Single wires strung between fences carved the blocks up smaller still, so that the herd could get four or five days out of a single field. The cows accepted this segregation from their food in a docile manner, grazing for a few hours and then lying down, or just standing looking at the view for the rest of the day. The neighbour's cows bellowed and ran to the fence if they saw anyone, but not Dylan's.

From the farm he could see the hills – even the one he was on now. Some days it disappeared under cloud and he forgot about it, but most days it was there, blue and distant, brooding over the farmland for miles around. There were smaller, closer hills as well. One that looked for all the world like a cone – classic volcano shape. Another had a flattened top with a little peak on the end, and single trees sticking up against the sky. Dairy cows grazed all the way up its side.

The first day that Draco spent on the farm he had gone with Dylan to the far end of the farm. Alongside a hedge Dylan was digging a drain. Digging with a spade and shovel. Draco thought he was crazy, and then he'd accidentally touched the fence and it had bitten him, throwing him backwards on to the short, stubby grass. Dylan laughed.

After a little while Draco saw a steady rhythm in the work, a communing with the black, soft earth that he had never known. On Dylan's suggestion he took the spade for a while, but found the work difficult and frustrating. When Dylan did it the movements were smooth and graceful. Draco took a handful of the earth, being careful not to touch the electric fence wire. He studied it and thought of the plants that grew from it. It had been easier to think about herbs flowing from the ground when he was at school. Out here, seeing the harmonious relationship between earth, plant and animal, it looked like nothing more than dirt. The grass was brown and dead in the bottom of the sward when it was grazed, the weeds lank and straggly. Dylan explained – as if talking to a child – that the whole process was dependent on rain and sun. Often in New Zealand it didn't rain for three weeks, and the grass would stop growing. Then when it rained again the herbage would turn soft and slushy and the dead material in the centre would rot. Dylan's eyes were soft when he said this and Draco knew he was thinking of the cows. His brow would furrow, almost as if he were in pain when he thought of the cows being underfed.

In the bottom of the drain, where Dylan dug deepest, the earth was white clay. Draco took large handfuls of it and made cups and cauldrons, snakes and horses. Dylan made cows and calves when he stopped for a break. They left the models on fence posts, to wither and crumble in the sun.

On the way back Dylan chased a hawk away from something that looked like a strip of dried leather. It was pink and black and had tiny legs and hooves. He crossed the wire into the herd and walked back and forward till he found what he was looking for.

"How can you be so sure?" Draco had asked. He hadn't seen anything wrong with the cow. Dylan leaned forward and pulled a transparent strip of something that looked like plastic off her haunch. He handed it to Draco. Part of the water bag, he explained. And there's mud all along her side – she's been lying flat out for a while.

The cow had looked at Dylan with her soft, dark eyes and mooed out when he left.

After leaving the stream the path climbed steeply up tree roots, then levelled out for a section. Draco's stomach started growling again as he climbed a steep, grassy bank. After five minutes the grass petered out and he found himself looking at a steep rock face. He started to climb, moving slowly from one tiny ledge or gap to the next up the near-vertical peak.

_hohohohohohohohohohoh_

Marv Elddir was telling stories again, a favourite occupation of his. He was standing with his back to the fire when Draco, Pansy and Blaise walked in after dinner. Draco looked sternly at him – as far as he was concerned, a second year had no right being in the most favoured spot in the common room.

"Move over," he instructed Crabbe. Crabbe was sitting on the sofa, looking at Elddir with an expression of rapt attention on his face. Pansy and Blaise pulled up an armchair on the other side of the fire and Elddir looked rather nervously at Pansy as she settled herself on Blaise's knee.

"Carry on," said Draco, waving his hand imperiously. Elddir continued to look at Pansy as though she was about to turn him into a puddle of goo. "Don't let us interrupt your discourse – if you've got anything important to say, that is."

Elddir coughed. "My uncle, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named…" Pansy laughed openly.

"Your uncle?" said Draco, raising his eyebrows. "You've been keeping that quiet."

"Well, sort of a cousin. We're both named after Marvolo Degussa, the greatest wizard of his generation." Pansy looked disgusted.

"I don't think so Marv. That distinction goes to his first wife – no relation of yours I believe."

_Nor a wizard, I doubt_, thought Draco Elddir did not appear to have noticed this gap in her argument, he just continued unflustered.

"My uncle says that when he is returned to his full power, he is going to close the school."

"When did you ever meet the Dark Lord," asked Draco, curiously. The boy squirmed, clearly unwilling to say that he had never met him

"When that idiot, Dumbledore is out of the way, he is going to come and see me," Marv insisted.

"That's right,' said Pansy. "He's going to take you and Harry Potter off on a nice long holiday together, isn't he?" She drew out the word 'holiday' to emphasise it. Elddir edged away from her, so that Draco felt the warmth of the fire.

"No, I just mean… that is, he'll want to get to know his relations. He doesn't have any others."

"I don't think the Dark Lord wants relations," said Draco, remembering his father's descriptions, "especially not little kids like yourself." Elddir threw him a look a loathing, and left. Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other, bewildered. After a few minutes they got up and headed for the dormitory.

"What was all that about?" asked Pansy. "D'you reckon it's true?"

"C'mon, the kid's famous for his tall tales. He's actually quite a good storyteller," said Blaise. "We should have given him a chance to spit it out. Could have been funny."

"You know what, I reckon he should apply for the Dark arts post, he'd be brill."

"That kid?" Pansy looked as though she thought Draco had lost his head.

"No, You-Know-Who," Draco explained. "That would be the best ever. Course, Potter wouldn't last long. And I think some of the other students would leave. It's not as if any of our previous Defence against the Dark Arts teachers have lasted more than a year, it's sure to be vacant again this summer."

"It's time you met him Draco, if that's what you think. I don't suppose you'd last much longer than Potter in his company." Pansy got up and flounced off in the direction of the girls' dormitory.

"What's up with her?' Draco asked, puzzled.

"Pansy? Lives with her aunt and uncle, didn't you know? She's still bitter about her parents."

"Oh." Draco's father had told him about those times, sometimes it was hard to stop him talking about it. He wondered who Pansy's parents had been.

"Have you done the arithmancy homework yet? There's a bit I just can't figure out."

Hours later Blaise and Draco packed their books away for the night. Pansy hadn't returned.


	6. Montane Hope Chapter 6

Chapter 6 (of 16)

"The thought in your mind at this moment is contributing almost imperceptibly to the shaping of your soul. Even passing and idle thoughts leave their impression."

Lisa stared at him. They were sitting in the box of cushions. Draco's muscles as usual felt stretched and – _alive_, was the only word he could think to describe it.

"Dumbledore said that," he explained.

"And elephants fly," she responded, her face screwed up in disbelief.

"How come meditation works then?" he asked. "You're all for that, you practise it every day."

She smiled suddenly, lighting up her face and the surrounding area. "Meditation isn't thinking it's… just being. Knowing."

Draco paused. "I don't need a brain to meditate then," he said, pondering this idea that had just occurred to him.

"Of course you do," she said, chucking a cushion at him. "How can you know who you are if you don't have a brain?"

"You mean I might not be Draco?" Draco's thoughts ran off with this idea – If I'm not Draco, who am I? Who am I? Who am I? An image of himself shimmered and faded as he lay back in the cushions, stretching, his eyes tightly closed, expecting a new image, a new person to reveal itself. Nothing. "I'm lost," he said, opening his eyes. Lisa giggled, and threw another cushion at him. He caught it, and threw it back, listening to the crackle as it swept past her hair, making it stand up on end.

"You've got more than a brain in there, you've got eckeltricity too," he accused, watching a few stray hairs floating eerily back into place.

"Everyone's got electricity in them," Lisa said.

"Doesn't it kill them?"

"What do you think?"

He grinned, realising what a stupid question he'd asked. Of course it didn't kill them, people died when their energy stopped, not because of it. Energy – he was aware of it, coursing through his veins, sparking under his scalp. He tried to remember what it was like not being aware, like most of the time. Lost in thoughts. _'Those kids don't even know they're alive,_' he'd heard a professor say once, and it was true, most of the time he didn't.

"Cushion fight," said Lisa, catching him by surprise with a cushion across his head. He retaliated immediately, and for five minutes or so there were no more words as they each strove to batter each other senseless with the down-filled cushions.

Lisa ended the fight dramatically by staging a faint, lying unmoving for nearly a full minute while Draco banished the cushions back to their box. He knew better than to attempt to help her – she had a number of tricks up her sleeve.

"Dinner time," she said finally, sitting up. "Keep practising." Draco was leaning back against the edge of the box looking at her, and she met his eyes. "What are you thinking about?" she asked, curiously. "You want to be careful you don't turn into something nasty thinking the wrong things."

"Well, actually," he blushed slightly. How could he say that he'd been thinking what a nice girl she was when Granger had come marching up behind his eyes and called him – what was it, a two-timing sod? "I was trying to create myself a seriously evil wizard. If you think about what you want to be hard enough, it'll happen."

_uhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuh_

Draco pulled himself up onto the surface of the tiny peak. He was standing on a piece of rock a few paces wide and sloping away sharply on every side. There had been vestiges of a path to guide him up, surely there had to be something going down as well. He walked to one side but found the rock so steep that it undercut itself. The other side was the same, sheer rock as far as he could see. It looked as though he'd have to return the way he came unless… he looked at the small patch of tussock on the corner, calculating how far he could get on it. It would be worth a try.

After a few steps across the bracken – which, being of an even height, gave him a good indication of the ground level – he spotted the path as a narrow gap winding through the tussock. Within a few minutes the tussock was shoulder high, leading down to a stretch of rock. He turned and scrambled down the rock, and back into tussock at the bottom. Before long Draco came to two rocks, one on top of the other. He sat on the top one. A trickle of water ran down it, presumably to the ground. The ground wasn't visible and he was reluctant to jump, knowing that it probably sloped away sharply. He shifted his weight onto his arms, considering sliding down the smooth surface, but then thought better of it and decided to find another way down.

A few paces to the right he could see the track continuing at the bottom of the peak. He scrambled across tussock and bush, ducked under some rocks and saw the rocks he'd been sitting on, just ahead. Trying to move forward, he put his foot out onto nothing. Throwing his weight back into the slope, onto his arms, he pulled himself back and crawled under the overhanging rocks, water dripping onto his back, until he reached the bottom of the rock he'd sat on a few moments before.

After a short steep section the slope became more gentle, then almost level. The tussock was almost as tall as Draco and thick and solid like a rock in the middle of the clumps. A few trees grew among the grass. Stumbling between clumps, Draco was pleased to see the path suddenly appear between two trees. He'd reached the bottom. Draco looked back and saw the peak he'd just come over soaring up into the sky like a needle.

Glad to be back among the trees, Draco touched the trunk of one, feeling its rough bark and the spirit glowing under his hands. It was a young tree, growing fast and had a vibrant spirit. At night in places such as this green lights sometimes appeared, glowing like a very faintly lit wand. They were little insects that used the light to catch their food. Dylan's father had told him about them some time ago, but with Lucius so engaged with volcanoes they hadn't had time to go out at night and see the little lights.

_huhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuuhuh_

The second week of February Draco's routine was shaken one Monday afternoon when he realised Granger was absent from the Arithmancy class – her favourite subject. At dinner time he looked around and realised that none of the dream team were there – nor Neville Longbottom. _Well – that's not unknown_, he told himself But he felt uneasy. If all four of them were absent, something had to be going on. Where there was trouble, they seemed to find it.

Dumbledore looked old and tired that evening. After the lesson he told Draco that Snape would take over tutoring Subneorancia from the following Monday. Draco felt rather unnerved by the fact that Granger was _not_ present for the last five minutes of the lesson – a strange turn around, because usually he felt quite put off by her presence.

In the common room he gave Pansy and Blaise a wide berth. The atmosphere was dry and warm – very warm. Pansy had turned the flames up so much that she had somehow removed most of the insidious damp – and emptied the common room of people.

_Was it the heat?_ That night Draco had the first nightmare he'd had in weeks. He'd been with Granger. Crookshanks was nowhere to be seen. Together they lifted a trapdoor and set off down the steps, wands in their hands. The steps went deep underground. Draco suspected they were under the sea when they finally emerged in a wide cave. He could hear waves crashing overhead. "C'mon, let's try this way," he muttered, though his voice sounded all wrong. Granger was taking short quick breaths.

"No Harry, there might be something down there."

"There could be something down any of them, let's go." Draco/Harry swept his eyes round the cave. There were passages all round, maybe half a dozen of them. Even a little one about six feet high in a wall.

"Why did we have to check this?" Granger was saying. "We could have sealed it off."

"We have to know. This house has been abandoned for years, anything could have moved in." Together they followed the first passage. Further passages and yet further led off this one. Granger marked every entrance they passed through with a red cross.

"What's that?" she gasped. Draco/Harry stopped abruptly. Lying against the wall was an ancient skeleton, the white bones of his hand clenched over a pile of coins. _The bag must have rotted._ "It's alright, nothing's disturbed it. Probably just got lost, poor fellow." Granger's breathing suggested that she thought getting lost was just what might happen to them too. They backtracked and took the next passage.

How long did they do this for? Draco couldn't tell. It seemed like two or three hours that the Draco/Harry character and Granger walked up and down caves, through narrow passages and over rocks. They held their lighted wands high and studied the ground, the walls, even the roof as they passed. Finally they found an indication that there was life in these passages. Draco/Harry held his breath as he followed Granger, pushing ahead when he heard something move.

"Spiders." They both heaved a sigh of relief. They had reached the end of the first passage, and fifteen minutes later were back in the original cave, leaving the harmless two-foot high spiders in their lair. "Okay," said Draco/Harry. "That one now." He pointed to a passage straight ahead.

"Don't you think we should go back for something to eat?" said Granger.

Draco couldn't believe that he actually said no. "This one'll be shorter. We'll seal it off and go upstairs when we're finished."

The passage led uphill so that the crashing of the waves became very close. Within a few minutes they saw daylight – they were looking over a cliff wall, above big waves that splashed and tore into caves lower down. "Better seal it off," said Draco/Harry. Granger raised her wand and together they conjured a film that slid from top to bottom of the open entrance. They turned back and took the next left turn. What they saw made them turn back very quickly.

"Was that…"

"No," said Granger. "It was a manticore. I'm quite positive the last Blast-Ended Skrewt died – Hagrid wouldn't lie about that."

The next turn led down to a lake. Water dripped gently down the wall. It smelt completely stagnant, and looked oily in the light of the wands.

"I don't like this place," said Granger, very firmly.

"No, doesn't feel good, huh." Harry's voice was devoid of emotion but Draco realised his heart was thumping fit to break through his ribcage. Draco/Harry saw a movement out of the corner of his eye. He grabbed Granger's hand. "Run." Draco/Harry ran faster than he would have thought possible, dragging Granger with him. He turned abruptly into a side passage as the manticore charged towards them, then headlong into whatever was behind them. They heard the screeching and tearing, then froze as a shadow slipped past them and out the way they had come. Then another, and another.

Cautiously they tiptoed out after them, wands dark. "Those weren't Dementors?" Granger asked, her voice wavering. "Couldn't have been," said Draco/Harry. "But it sure felt like it."

Quietly they moved along, till they were almost alongside the cave they had sealed. Draco/Harry heard a slow rattling sound. Granger made to turn back, but he grabbed her wrist. "Wands ready," he whispered. He charged forwards, into the cave. "Unseal," he shouted as the creatures swept in on them. Draco started in his sleep and nearly woke up. They _were_ dementors – small ones. He watched himself raise his wand and whisper a spell, then a silver stag swept down the dementor children. They stood confused for a moment, then fled. The stag slithered to the floor and reformed with eight legs and a pair of waving palps. Harry looked curiously at it for an instant before turning to help Granger break the spells they had put on the outside entrance. An icy cold flooded the cave and the spider disintegrated. "Jump," yelled Draco/Harry, pointing his wand behind him and sending a cloud of silver towards the cloaked children that now crowded into the cave. The cold water surrounded him, over his head and throwing him up against the cliff. "Hermione," he screamed.

Draco shuddered. The dormitory was stifling hot, and he couldn't understand why he'd been asleep at all – Crabbe's snores were almost as loud as the crashing waves he'd been struggling in an instant before. He went back to the common room – he was lathered in sweat but felt quite unable to face a shower after having been nearly drowned.

His finger brushed against soft fur, and he nearly jumped out of his skin before he realised it was Proctor's tail, hanging down from the table on which she sat. Blaise and Pansy had fallen asleep on the sofa in front of the fire, and he now leant against it, watching the dying flames.

"Draco," a voice murmured. He felt Pansy's hand pass over his hair. Blaise grunted.

"I had a bad dream. The dorms are hot and stuffy," Draco said. He sat and thought. There was a very uncomfortable realism about the dream. What had happened next? He wished he hadn't woken up, how on earth could he leave Granger drowned and battered below that cliff face? Surely there was something he could do.

_hehe_

Draco sought out Snape first thing next morning. As he sat in Snape's office he wished for a moment that it was Dumbledore he had chosen to talk to. There was something very uncomfortable about the way Snape was looking at him.

"I… uh… had a bad dream last night Sir," Draco stumbled. This felt bad. He was sure Dumbledore would have been a better choice.

"I see," said Snape, silkily. "And why do you think I should know this."

"It's – well – it was Granger and Potter – at least, I think I was Potter – and it just seemed so real." Draco had had no further sleep. He looked haggard and felt it too.

"Tell me about this," said Snape, sharply. "Every detail you can remember."

Draco began, telling as much as he could remember. His voice broke when he reached the part where he was in the water and he didn't know where Hermione was.

Snape leaned forward, talking low and fast so that Draco had to strain his ears to hear what he said. "Listen to me Draco. I suspect you are overworking – and probably thinking too much about Miss Granger into the bargain. Forget about it. I may speak to Madam Pomfrey later, meanwhile take a couple of evenings off studying – you're well up to date. Spend the time with your girlfriend, and Pansy and Blaise too if you like, I'll arrange for their homework deadlines to be extended."

With that he got up and swept out of his office, leaving Draco sitting there even more concerned than before. He was to forget that Granger was probably drowned? To say nothing of Potter, and the other two, wherever they were.

_eheh_

Potter and Granger were not at breakfast, nor lunch either. Blaise obtained permission for the foursome to spend an evening down at Hogsmeade, but Draco found himself unable to settle. Even with Lisa sitting on his knee drinking butterbeer down at The Three Broomsticks, he still could feel Granger's wrist in his hand as he pulled her forwards, into danger. Blaise and Pansy became rather disgusting with each other once they'd had a few drinks, and Lisa teased so much that he laughed uproariously despite himself, until Madame Rosmerta finally came along to send them back to school. She didn't seem to mind that some of her customers had left while Blaise and Pansy were kissing.

The following morning the familiar headache was back and Proctor was following him about, mewing. Pansy was still in bed with the biggest headache she'd ever had – at least, since she'd got her new wand and didn't have to concentrate so hard. He took Proctor to the Great Hall, feeding her breakfast under the table. He couldn't eat anything, not with the four Gryffindors still missing. Ginny wasn't eating either, at the Gryffindor table, and hadn't smiled when Luna stopped by to say something, although everyone else laughed.

_hehe_

That night he told Pansy and Blaise about the dream. Blaise shrugged, saying, "Weird." Pansy looked worried. Draco knew that she hated Granger, but he also knew that she was reasonably good at Divination. "Do you think it was a real vision?" she asked.

"I'm, frankly, astonished that I woke up alive. If that was real, they're probably both dead," Draco said.

She got up and ran towards her dorm. "Wait there."

When she came back she was hiding something under her cloak. "Let's go in your dorm," she said. The boys' dorm was bare when they went up there – in fact, most of the Slytherin students were hanging out in the corridors. Snape was becoming increasingly puzzled at the number of people who chose to sit in the damp, dark corridors playing Exploding Snap or helping each other with homework.

In the dormitory she pulled a chair towards her and sat cross-legged on the floor before pulling a round, opaque globe out from under her cloak. "Don't tell, I smuggled it from Divination for practise," she said. "Professor Trelawney will never know, I don't think she even knows how to use one." She placed the crystal globe on the chair, then closed her eyes and started humming. A minute later her eyes snapped open again. 'Dammit, I can't think of anyone I would like to concentrate on _less_."

"Why not try one of the others?" Draco asked. There's four of them missing."

"It's all right. I'll stick with Granger now I've started. I'll get there in a minute." She closed her eyes, humming tunelessly again. After two or three minutes her eyes slowly opened wide. She leaned forward slightly, gazing into the crystal ball. Her eyes flicked back and forward, watching something intently, but when Blaise and Draco leaned over her shoulders there was nothing to be seen but a few shadowy figures. Draco was sure she would tell them in a minute, but curiosity was getting the better of him.

"Will she mind if I look?" he whispered. Blaise shrugged, he had no idea what Draco meant. Draco raised his wand, pointing at Pansy and whispered, "_Legilimens_".

_ahah_

He could see the cliff face, the holes that marked low caves, the waves crashing. He had no idea where the entrance was that Granger and Potter had jumped from. A voice called behind him, "This is no good. We'll need to try another way." Then another voice, "Who would have thought there'd be dementors breeding in those caves. I'll never forgive myself if they've been hurt."

Draco concentrated on the voices and the scene swung round to the open sea. Frantically paddling to prevent themselves being swept against the cliffs, Professors Snape and McGonagall were sitting in an open boat. They struggled to beat the waves for a moment, then successfully turned the boat and paddled away. He distinctly heard Snape say, "There was no need for the children to go poking about those caves. If they'd been worried they could have asked us to check it out for them."

"Oh Severus," McGonagall replied, 'Do you think you are proof against a hundred young dementors, a manticore and an unidentified lake monster." She paused. Then, "most strange the young Malfoy boy seeing it though. Has he ever seen anything like this before?"

Their voices faded away. The scene spun again, Draco was looking at the cliff face. Moving forward, he was again plunged into the waves and through, finishing in a dry sandy cave under an overhanging rock. Potter and Granger were there, alive. There weren't doing anything, just sitting there.

"They didn't hear us, did they?" said Granger. "How could they, over the waves?"

"We'll be alright – till the spring tides." Harry's face twisted into a lopsided grin.

"If we don't starve first," snapped Granger. "You wouldn't even be able to reach the ledge with that leg."

Draco lowered his wand. Pansy's eyes returned to their normal size, she had come to the same decision. "It's time to go and see Dumbledore," said Draco. They ran through the corridors, ignoring the other students who began to get up and climb back through to the common room.


	7. Montane Hope Chapter 7

Chapter 7 (of 16)

Outside Dumbledore's office they came to an abrupt halt. It was after nine at night, surely he didn't sleep in his office. Draco shouted every possible password he could think of at the gargoyle that guarded the entrance. Nothing happened. Pansy stepped forward. She said nothing, but her eyes narrowed and her forehead furrowed into deep frown lines the way it used to when she was casting a spell. The gargoyle started to slide open.

Draco spun round as a cheery voice humming an old nursery rhyme floated down the corridor towards them. Dumbledore was dressed in a dressing gown and night cap but his eyes twinkled as if he was as wide awake as ever. "Why, Miss Parkinson," he said as he approached the small group. "You are trying to enter my office illegally." He turned to face the gargoyle and said clearly, "Liquorice Allsorts." Draco looked at him blankly. The gargoyle sprang open and Dumbledore strode forward, turning on the stair to beckon them up.

"I really will have to improve the security," he said. "First students guess my passwords, then they overcome my gargoyle through concentration – no good, no good at all." He sat down and looked at them. Fawkes the phoenix was sleeping, his head tucked under his wing. "You must have had a reason for wanting to break into my office. What is it you wanted to tell me?"

Draco looked at the floor and Blaise looked at Pansy. "It's Granger and Potter," she began diffidently. "They're trapped in a cave, injured and possibly wandless."

Dumbledore leaned forward eagerly. 'Tell me. What do you know?"

Pansy began to tell what she had seen, her eyes distant as if she was visualising everything again, inside her head. She finished by pleading with Dumbledore not to tell Trelawney about the crystal ball.

"Not if you return it immediately," said Dumbledore. "I'll see to it that you get another. Powers of discernment like yours are too useful to not encourage." He walked over to the cage and whispered something in Fawkes' ear. The phoenix shook his head and ruffled his wings, then picked up a package that Dumbledore conjured and flew up through the roof.

"Food," explained Dumbledore. "No better stuff when you've been stuck in a cave for two days. In fact, I'm sure you three wouldn't say no to a snack either." He conjured a tray of pumpkin cake, ham sandwiches and Mikado biscuits. "A Muggle treat from Ireland," he explained of this last, adding a jug of sparkling Cidona and another of pumpkin juice. "Travel certainly broadens the waist – if not the mind." Draco found the Cidona delicious, it was a sharp-flavoured, sparkling apple juice.

_8888_

Towards the morning (perhaps it was the rich food) Draco dreamed of a girl with bright purple hair who was referred to as Nymphadora Tonks. She cried and hugged Granger and Potter, and blew kisses to Fawkes. "We're going to seal that place off," she said firmly. "You're not to go down there again, not on any account." Draco started when he turned and saw a face that had once been unpleasantly familiar. Alastor Moody had been their Defence against the Dark Arts teacher in fourth year, but it turned out it wasn't him at all and – oh, it was all very confusing. Draco for one had been very glad to see the back of him at the end of the year.

When he woke a thin winter light was filtering through the roof. _Pansy must have bewitched this place last night, _he thought. It reminded him of home, having windows. He got dressed and ran to find Lisa.

_8833333333333333388_

Draco guessed it was afternoon. It was pleasantly cool among the trees, but the sun shone warmly through the canopy wherever the growth was a little thin, bathing tree trunks and rocks in a strong yellow light. Draco stopped a little further on and sat down, almost falling asleep, as he listened to the birds and the rustling leaves.

A little bird called chuck-chuck-chuck chooee, chuck-chuck-chuck-chooee, over and over again. He listened to the other tweets and chirps, hoping to hear the distinctive call of the tui. It wasn't there. For a little while a fantail had soundlessly fluttered along the path in front of him. It almost seemed to know him it was so friendly, and he'd wondered for a few minutes if it was the one from the farm.

When he moved on again he noticed the strong leg muscles working as he planted each foot firmly on the ground, moving rhythmically. It felt good to stretch his legs. Since leaving Hogwarts he'd had no time or space to practice Lisa's routines. The trees were gliding swiftly by at this pace, occasionally marked with plastic orange triangles to show the path.

A few minutes later he slowed down again – the path was completely blocked by a fallen tree. Stepping over the first two limbs, he found the head of the tree almost impassable. A curving trodden path showed where Muggles had detoured round it. He followed their footprints, bending to lift a strand of the creeper so that he could walk under it, back onto the path. The supple jack resisted being moved, and Draco stared as he noticed the little joints where it changed direction. Like a spider's leg – exactly like – the joints started close together and then spaced themselves slightly as they got farther away from the direction change. He stepped over the creeper and continued uphill.

_8833333333333388_

It was the following Monday before any of the missing Gryffindors returned. Draco caught sight of pink hair in the Hogwarts grounds later that day, but only for an instant. He never knew whether it had been the Nymphadora girl returning to the school with them or not. _Pretty name._ He suspected she was a metamorphmagus – some of them thought it was quite funny to change their appearance on whim. It had been in his mother's family – just occasionally a metamorphmagus turned up among the Blacks, but he hadn't heard of one in the last few generations.

_8888_

"Are you still worrying about that cellar, Harry? It'll be okay, the Order saw to that for us."

Potter put his head down on the library table so that the reply was muffled.

"Vol –mort – power – 'zard. Won' stop." He lifted his head again. "How are we to know that he's not controlling some of those creatures. We still don't know everything that's down there."

"Harry," hissed Granger, glancing round at Draco. Draco smirked at her, pretending he wasn't interested in anything they had to say.

"You've beaten him before Harry, you will do it again. I know you will." Her voice was low and clear. She was the easiest person in the school to eavesdrop on.

"I had help then. And when he came back…" Potter swallowed, pausing for a moment. "If it hadn't been for our wands being partners, he'd have killed me then."

"Harry, you're the best person in the school at Defence against the Dark Arts. You'll be okay. The Order will come as soon as they know Lord… You-Know-Who is on his way." Granger bit her lip anxiously. Even Weasel looked worried – really worried. Draco turned the pages of his book, as if totally absorbed in "Ridiculously Difficult Potions for Newts."

About five minutes later Granger shut the book she was looking at with a loud crash, so that Draco looked up curiously. "Let's go practise some of this stuff. I don't think I'll be happy till we've all learned it. Fawkes might not be there to find your wand next time, and you never know when you might have to face Voldemort without it, after all." Draco winced at the name, and several of the other students interrupted their studies to watch the three Gryffindors leave. Madam Pince heaved a sigh of relief when they were gone.

Draco returned to his studying, but his mind skimmed the pages without taking anything in. He would have liked to follow them to see what they were doing. What sort of magic could protect an unarmed wizard against someone with a wand?

_8888_

By the time Draco arrived at Snape's office that evening he felt physically and mentally exhausted. Since lunch-time he had been going over things in his head, wondering what Potter, Granger and Weasley were planning. Between sneaking out of the castle to feed spiders, the house with the strange caves underneath; and now they were talking about fighting the Dark Lord without wands – none of it made sense. Then Lisa chattered almost non-stop during Arithmancy, later spending a full forty minutes on one of her routines which made them both late for dinner. Instead of relaxing after the exercise and food, his mind had gone into overdrive again wondering what Potter and his side-kicks were up to.

Snape was already there waiting. He looked down his nose as Draco opened the door, a look Draco still found rather disconcerting. It made him feel rather small and slug-like, even though he knew Snape looked at every-one the same way – or worse. He could thank his lucky stars he wasn't Potter.

"Dumbledore tells me you have mastered the rudiments of occlumency, both probing and concealing," Snape barked at him as he sat down.

Draco nodded.

"I don't, personally, believe anything until I see it for myself." Snape looked very sharply at him. "Therefore, we will spend the first fifteen minutes – we only have half an hour – on that. The more you co-operate during the time we have, the faster you will learn. _Legilimens_"

The spell hit Draco before he had expected it. He could visualise his thoughts running for cover as Snape probed – it felt as though he'd inserted a sharp knife into his skull and started twisting. Before he expected it, the spell lifted.

"I see Dumbledore has been far too gentle with you. Nevertheless, you do have good control. You are wasting your time eavesdropping on the Dream Team, it will just confuse you. Come to me if you have questions of that nature."

Snape repeated the exercise twice more. Each time Draco was ready, although under Snape's relentless probing the effort was exhausting. Snippets of thought seemed to willingly unravel before Snape's eyes so that concealing them was taking all of his attention.

Eventually Draco was permitted to check out Snape's thoughts. As with Dumbledore, he quickly found thoughts that had been placed purposely for him to find. Dumbledore left things lying around that made him laugh so hard that it sometimes took a couple of minutes to compose himself and conceal his thoughts again. Snape left the ingredients and directions for mixing up Polyjuice Potion in the front of his brain, then told him off for getting so engrossed in it (Draco had always wanted to know how to make Polyjuice Potion) that he forgot to probe further.

Finally Snape stood up and drew some symbols on the blackboard that ran along one wall of his office. "Subneorancia is not a branch of magic for idiots or children. You will learn the major elements that empower the soul. You will learn; not to control them, but to respect and utilise them. These elements are Earth, Air, Fire and Water. Subneorancia is a discipline of mind, not of wand. It will assist you in regular wand magic, and as you advance, it will begin to unravel the mysteries of the universe to your understanding – if you are ready for it."

He sat down on his desk, looking down on Draco's head. "Never since I have been at this school has a student asked to learn Subneorancia, although I have taught Potions to a few who would have done very well in the discipline. This year two students have asked to learn. Of all the students that I have ever met, you and Miss Granger are the least likely to ever master this skill. Mastering Subneorancia means directing your thoughts, actions and feelings to be in tune with the basic elements. No-one can do this who does not have a strong character trait of humility and respect. Neither you nor Miss Granger have a humble bone in your bodies."

Draco refused to lower his eyes. What was the point of telling him he wasn't going to learn? Did Snape want him to give up?

"As you're here," continued Snape, in a bored-sounding tone, 'we'd better start with Earth." He led Draco to a large glass tank which contained – earth – arranged as it would look if a person were to dig from the top soil to about 30 feet under the surface. Despite himself, Draco found himself becoming really interested. Snape was explaining the elemental form of soil and rock, the structure with which it composed itself and its capacities for supporting life under and on its surface.

"Miss Granger," he acknowledged when she entered, but made no further sign that she was there. By the time Draco left she had been there ten minutes. She looked even more tired than Draco felt.

_88833333333333333888_

It was beautiful. Draco stood on top of the mountain with the wind blowing fiercely in his face, making his eyes water. He could see the sea, he could see more mountains. Dotted on the farmland below were little towns and winding rivers and solid little barns and farm steadings. He couldn't find the landmarks to pick out Dylan's farm – it was all so vast and the farm too small. The far distance was obscured by heat haze. Over by the sea the top half of a small hill stood with half of its outline sharp above the haze and the rest blurred or invisible below. The wind whipped and tore at the trees on top of the hill. He was standing on the highest peak of a mountain that was its own range of mountains. Looking down into the valleys gum trees rose tall and bare, tree fern, beech and palm coated the hillside as firmly as one of his blankets did on a freshly made bed.

The sun was shining warmly in spite of it being winter and Draco felt once again the cool calm of the bush as he turned onto the downhill track. The wind seemed to have whipped the last of his energy out of him. It was now mid-afternoon and his stomach felt like an empty, gaping hollow.

Dylan hated wind. He'd shown Draco a lopsided tree that had had most of its crown broken, leaving only two small branches intact. It had been a large shade tree, a walnut that once spread its branches thirty feet from the trunk. Underneath the grass was sparse where the cows had gathered to get out of the sun. Dylan told him that in summer the sun became intensely bright and hot, like sitting right up next to a fire. Draco wasn't sure whether to believe him or not. If it wasn't for the bare-stemmed walnut trees, he wouldn't know it was winter. Days like today started off cold but became as warm as or warmer than the British summer by the afternoon.

In the hills around Hogwarts the wind whistled and blew most of the time. Some students said that there were banshees in the wind. Dylan just didn't like it because it ruffled his hair and blew things away. He didn't really know what wind was.

Among the trees there was little wind, only a gentle whispering above as it played with the twigs and leaves in the top of the canopy. "Learn to feel emotion, Draco," Dumbledore had said. It seemed like years ago. "When you are alone, in the presence of Nature you need to open your mind and feel what the elements are trying to tell you. When you allow yourself to feel the power you will find that you want to return to these places often."

Draco found that this less-used path had a more 'green' feel to it than the one he had climbed up. _Where men walk, the power of the earth is lessened. Each footstep surely marks the ground, stifling the natural powers with the profane thoughts of people._ Perhaps that was why he was never able to find this sort of natural peace at school. He touched the trees often, occasionally brushing the back of his hand along a fern, or the light leaves of a rata climber. Some of the books talked of 'nature spirits', but he didn't think that was right. A presence there was certainly, but not so powerful that it could be called a faery, or being. He was quite sure Hermione Granger wouldn't believe in faeries.

Coming to a young tree, he stopped and placed both hands on its trunk. The bark vibrated slightly between his hands, as he visualised a globe of wispy, bluish smoke pulsing inside the tree. As he had been taught, he acknowledged the spirit in his mind, accepting that it was there. Neither good nor bad, just there. _What does my spirit look like?_ Still touching the tree, he turned his thoughts inwards. A pillar of red light appeared behind his eyes, reaching the ground and towering far taller than himself. _Red? Of all the colours that might have been, I didn't think it would be red_. Compared to this light the tree spirit was nothing. Yet he felt no pride in that. Before he had climbed the hill, perhaps. But now he saw only two beings with different abilities and destiny, yet each with the same right to be. He touched other trees, finding some spirits stronger, some weaker. Some were more green and older trees often faint and almost grey. Later he touched stones, even picked them up. He could not detect any innate power. Not that they had none, simply that he was not yet sensitive enough to detect it.

_What then, would the elemental power look like?_ He sat on a rock and thought, concentrating on the memory of the wind that had blown hard in his face when he stood on top of the hill. A power that could damage trees and buildings, blow ships off course and scream like a banshee. He thought of the heavy, oppressive atmosphere of open spaces and how light and gentle it seemed under the trees. Only two or three minutes later the winds gathered in his mind, twisting and floating. Icy blue and glowing, an orb that filled the space behind his eyes and extended out, through the wood. The power was exceedingly great – larger than anything he had visualised before.

He leaned back, feeling the cool stone under his head and back, allowing the vision to dissipate gently into the element from which it came. Then he stood up slowly and continued, lowering himself with his arms down the steep rocks and tree roots.


	8. Montane Hope Chapter 8

Chapter 8 (of 16)

"The manticore superficially resembles a lion with a scorpion's tale – or, more rarely, a dragon's. That one we saw was definitely like a scorpion, wasn't it Harry? Similar to the skrewts."

"Hermione, we're supposed to be learning about phoenixes and hippocampuses this year."

"I know Ron, but this is interesting. Manticores can talk, you know, it's only because they're so violent that they're not classified as intelligent beings."

"Like trolls are intelligent creatures," said Weasley, a sarcastic edge to his voice.

"That's true. You can't say that Trolls aren't violent – and they're not very clever. Probably manticores should be reclassified."

"What's it going to be now, SProDMA.?" Potter interrupted. "C'mon Hermione, manticores eat people."

"SProDMA?"

"Society Promoting Dangerous Magical Animals," he explained.

"The ministry would have tried to exterminate them – but Dad says you can't find a wizard anywhere willing to look for them."

"Isn't it fantastic that we've seen one. They're really very rare," Hermione enthused.

"I'm not sure that fantastic is _quite_ what I was thinking. More like, 'let's get out of here before it wakes up.'"

Potter glared at Draco as he sauntered over to their table and leaned over Granger's shoulder to look at her copy of 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find them'.

"Not starting another SPEW are you Granger?" he said quietly in her ear. "What is it this time, mistreated manticores? After the skrewts I would have thought…"

"What are you doing in the library Draco?" demanded Potter.

"Just browsing." He waved the book in his hand. "I'm not interested in weird creatures myself – just thought that if you're going to start giving manticores fluffy scarves and comfortable homes – well, you really ought to tell the rest of the school."

"When I get a pet manticore, I'll be sure to introduce you," said Granger, closing her book and edging away from him. Draco's smirk spread into a grin.

"I'll look forward to that." He sauntered off to the restricted section with his book, just out of sight of the three.

"What's he doing, spending so much time in the library?" he heard Potter say.

"What are you blushing for, Hermione?" That was Weasley.

"Oh, it's nothing. Just look at that picture – did you know about half of them are born with human heads and half with oracau heads?"

"What's an oracau?"

"Sort of an eagle, they've got wings too if they're like that. Look a bit like a hippogriff, but extremely dangerous..."

Draco moved away, searching for the book on Vanishing Ships Snape had told him about. He suspected that Granger hadn't told her friends that he was taking Subneorancia lessons as well. Surely one of them would have said something by now if she had.

A moment later their chairs scraped back and he heard Weasley's voice again. "Let's go find Neville. Hermione, you're coming to watch us practice Quidditch, aren't you?"

Draco could have sworn she glanced in his direction before assenting. When they were gone he went to their table to try the _priori objet_ charm – Granger had a knack for finding the books he wanted to read before he did.

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"First day of spring – do you think we'll see any daffodils?"

"Maybe. It's not really spring in this part of the world," Draco replied. It was Saturday the first of March and the first Hogsmeade day that Lisa had graciously condescended to accompany him to town – as he said it. Every other Saturday she'd had heaps of homework to catch up on, and he'd ended up hanging out with Pansy and Blaise – not as if _they_ needed company! Lisa exclaimed over crocuses and new leaf buds as if she'd never seen them before. Once they'd got supplies at Honeyduke's and very thoroughly perused Zonko's, they followed the well-worn trail to the Shrieking Shack. A few students were gathered by the Shrieking Shack, telling the old stories. It was supposed to be the most haunted house in Britain, but although most of the adults around Hogsmeade told of bloodcurdling howls and shrieks emanating from it, none of the students had heard anything for years. Draco had been tempted to dare Crabbe and Goyle to sneak out at night and see if it still made noises. They might just about have been stupid enough to do it – but it wasn't worth them getting caught and his father finding out.

A first year Ravenclaw sat on the damp ground staring at a tree – or so Draco thought. When they got closer he saw that she was drawing on a piece of parchment, and using different colours of ink to fill it in. He grabbed Lisa's hand and ignored the whistles that followed them as they continued on past the Shrieking Shack. He'd never explored the hills behind Hogsmeade before.

"Look – snow!" Lisa ran forward and went straight in over her head, floundering forward to make a ditch.

"Lisa!"

"Come on, Draco. Let's get to the other side and make a snow castle."

"Lisa, there's water under that!"

The pond was frozen solid – but just in case, Draco lay down and slithered along the ice, arriving at the other side soaked and blowing on his hands with cold.

They made snow castles and snow men and moats and tunnels, then slung handfuls of snow at each other.

"Look,' called Lisa, pointing towards the castle.

Draco dropped an armful of snow on her.

"You missed it, why didn't you look?"

"What was it?"

"I don't know, something wispy like a cloud. If I didn't know better…" Snow started drifting down, obscuring the view of the castle.

"No-one really knows what a Boggart looks like when it's on its own, do they?"

"What would it look like if you looked at it?"

"Looks like me – but with only one arm. What if you looked at it?"

"Werewolf. How come yours isn't scary?"

"What do you mean it's not scary? How would you like to only have one arm?"

The snow was wet and cold now, a heavy sleet. Draco shivered and stamped his feet.

"Let's go. I'm sure there's no such thing as sleet in civilised countries."

"Like Antarctica."

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Draco was sitting on his own, in front of the main entrance the next day, looking out at the grounds. "Wow, and this is supposed to be spring!" he exclaimed as a brilliant flash split the sky. Balls of ice bounced off the steps at his feet and coated the grass in a blanket of white. The door swung open behind him, crashing back against the wall. "Hello Proctor," he said in a response to a small chirping noise. Proctor's eyes were wide and scared looking as she hung onto Pansy's arm, digging her claws in.

"Just look at this!" Pansy closed the door behind her. The hail was bouncing and jumping as it fell, stones of ice the size of garden peas. "I really wanted to go down to the lake today."

"So did I," said Draco. "Thought I might have seen the giant squid." Thunder rumbled and growled, making Proctor claw her way to the top of Pansy's head in fear.

"Let's go," he said.

"What – you're kidding, aren't you."

"If we both go," said Draco, "one of us will probably survive."

Pansy pulled Proctor off her head and tucked her under her robes, then started running. Draco skidded and slipped on the wet grass, holding his hands up over his head as he ran. The hail stung wherever it hit bare skin.

When they reached the lake the surface was a boiling mass of foam. Draco followed Pansy under a tree, doubtful now that they would see anything.

"Hey, look out!"

"Potter!"

"You just stood on my hand Pansy."

"What did you leave it there for Parvati? Honestly, what are you two doing out in this weather?" Proctor jumped to the ground and crashed up into the tree, coming to rest on a branch overhead.

"What are you two doing down here? Have you been burned, Malfoy?"

Draco didn't bother replying. He knew his face was red from the hailstones. Parvati Patil was leaning against Potter on the other side of the tree. They didn't have much view of the lake there, but it didn't seem to worry them as they were partly sheltered from the weather. Turning his back on them, he turned and watched the hail hissing down into the water and disappearing.

"There, did you see it?" The squid had raised several tentacles above the surface. A moment later he saw it again. _Was that an eye?_

"Oh – it wasn't the squid I came to watch," said Pansy, irritated by his excitement. "If that big monster gets out of the way we might see a hippocampus."

"Trying to be a teacher's pet, Pansy? I'd never have thought it."

"I happen to be interested in them," Pansy told Parvati. "At least we're learning something worthwhile in Care of Magical Creatures this year." She launched into a long monologue on hippocampi and tadfoals, kelpies and murtlaps. Parvati nodded every once in a while and tried to look intelligent, but Draco noticed her eyes glazing over.

"Look – there's one and another. Oh – I knew it would be worth coming."

"That's just foam Pansy," said Potter.

"No, look, there's a tadfoal too. I'm going closer. Stay there Proctor."

The hail had almost stopped. Draco was inclined to agree with Potter – the waves were whipping up quite a foam – until he thought he saw one. A moment later he was certain. It rose up with a wave, galloped a few paces and then sank under water again. The other adult appeared, head and flowing mane rising out of the water. Behind it a smaller version was gallantly struggling along – the tadfoal. As it sank Draco caught sight of the long tail fins.

Potter walked out on to the beach, turning stones over and picking some up to look underneath. "Be careful Potter," called out Draco, "I didn't think you liked swimming." Potter looked up, trying to make eye contact. Failing, he picked up a stone and left, Parvati hanging onto his arm.

"You shouldn't have said that," said Pansy. "He'll be wondering how you know."

"I was just teasing. I wouldn't like water much if I'd been trapped by it either. What's that?" He pointed at a little animal Potter had disturbed. It looked like a rat, except when it stood perfectly still.

"Murtlap. Hagrid brought a tray of them to Care of Magical Creatures a few weeks ago. This one must've escaped." She held her hand out to the little rodent, allowing it to sniff it. "They're very useful creatures, normally live by the seashore pretending to be part of the vegetation. Murtlap essence will heal just about any skin condition."

Draco pointed to the sky – it was turning grey again. Pansy looked regretfully back at the lake as she scooped Proctor up. She looked as though she was tempted to run backwards looking at the lake, so as not to miss anything.

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Draco and Pansy just made it back to the front doors as the clouds started chucking their hail down, even more violently than before if that were possible. They pushed through all the kids that were waiting, hopefully, for the weather to clear and were heading towards the dungeon when they heard a scream from the second floor. Draco rolled his eyes back.

"Better check it out. We are prefects after all."

"Why anyone would make you a prefect I just don't know," Pansy retorted.

"Dumbledore recognises leadership qualities and gorgeous looks," returned Draco, smoothing his hair as they ran. She would have laughed, if it hadn't been for another piercing shriek overhead. Then another, a different person this time.

"I think we should be running the other way," gasped Draco. "Sounds like a banshee."

When they reached the second floor corridor there was a crowd of students hovering anxiously over a third-year girl. She was unconscious. Another shriek made Draco look towards the end of the corridor – an old hag was advancing menacingly on a first year, who stood trembling, with his back to the wall.

"Um," gulped Draco. "I think you could get all the students out of the corridor and I could go and fetch a teacher."

"Don't you dare," hissed Pansy. A first year girl had run towards the hag with a broomstick in her hand. She stepped in front of the boy and raised it – Draco closed his eyes, sure she was going to belt the hag into next year – then the broomstick fell out of her hands. The hag was gone, the girl was looking at a monstrous jellyfish with slithery, grasping tentacles.

"What is it," another first year asked. The students looked totally bewildered.

"Come on," said Pansy, pulling Draco along. 'It's a Boggart, you can deal with that."

Before they reached the Boggart it turned into Professor Snape. Another girl turned her eyes up and fainted just as the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher burst in from the other end of the corridor, closely followed by Professor's McGonagall and Snape and a large trunk. Luckily the Boggart turned into the Dark Mark before Snape saw it in his own form. "_Riddikulus_," said Pansy, flicking her wand. It crumpled and fell to the earth. Draco was ready when it rose as a werewolf. He concentrated hard on old Jasper – his friend's toothless labrador. Raising his wand, he prepared to speak the charm that would defeat it for the second time when the new Professor jumped in front of him. The Boggart turned into a screaming baby. McGonagall levitated it with a flick of her wand and sent it whizzing into the trunk, and Snape snapped the lid shut. Draco was still looking at the trunk wondering what had just happened – and why? when he realised Snape had ordered him to help. Dragging his eyes off the jumping, shuddering box, he woke the unconscious third year and assisted her to the hospital wing. Snape was telling off one of the first years. "Fifty points off Gryffindor for being in possession of a broomstick, Kayla, you know it's not permitted."

"It's thanks to little Kayla we don't have more kids to enervate," whispered Pansy as soon as they were out of hearing.

"At least he didn't see the Snape-Boggart."

"That screaming baby though. What's all that about?"

"More to the point, what do they want it for?"

"Want it?"

"That trunk." Draco talked slowly as though explaining to a child. "They kept it."

"Why would a professor want a Boggart? That's silly."

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By the time Pansy and Draco reached the common room it was late afternoon. Marv Elddir had a small group of kids sitting on the floor round him. Draco promptly walked over and sat down, cross-legged. Marv glanced nervously at Pansy.

"Don't let us stop you," said Draco. "You were telling a story."

The younger Slytherins begged him to continue so, with another nervous glance at Pansy, he did.

"Long ago, before Headmaster Dumbledore was born, these events took place in a small house on the Cornish coast. That is, before the Dark Lord rose but after serpents were formed, there was a man called Salazar Everest. Salazar was the only direct descendant of Slytherin at that time.

'Salazar was an ambitious man, like all true Slytherins. He was an innovator, with the fastest mind that Hogwarts had known for centuries. When he was expelled – apparently for rule breaking but really because he was just too clever to handle - he taught himself from all the books he could get hold of. Gradually his power increased, and although he did not challenge the Hogwarts or the Ministry of Magic directly, other wizards were starting to get nervous. They thought he was planning the greatest coup of all time."

Marv paused theatrically. He didn't continue until the first years started to stir restlessly and demand to know what happened.

"Salazar was thirty years old when he moved to a small house, in Cornwall. He never returned to Slytherin Manor. Whatever he was planning, we'll never know, because his son sent a snake into his bed one night – it swallowed him whole, while he was still alive."

Draco nodded, he knew how snakes ate. Some of the kids looked disgusted.

"The son by this time was master of Slytherin Manor, but he never had any luck and the Manor soon fell into disrepair. It has been empty for nearly a hundred years now. Meanwhile, in the house by the sea a young witch that Salazar had taken to live with him – some say he stole her and some say she went of her own free will – gave birth to a baby. Some said it was his baby and some said it wasn't. That was two hundred years ago.

'It is said that the house was set up expressly for the heir of Slytherin to continue his work, free from the prying eyes that were watching Slytherin Manor. The baby boy would have grown up greater by far than the Dark Lord we honour now. If he had lived.

"His mother killed him.

"And that, listeners, is why He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is the last of the great line of Salazar Slytherin. And why our Professor is terrified of a screaming baby."

Draco didn't realise he'd stopped breathing. The Defence Against the Dark Arts professor was over two hundred years old! That couldn't be right surely? The first years whispered loudly to each other, shocked and nervous at what they had just heard. When the noise died down a little, Draco stood up.

"While you're making up stories, Elddir, why don't you tell us exactly what Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall want with a Boggart."


	9. Montane Hope Chapter 9

Chapter 9 (of 16)

"_The third element is fire. Every culture has their own myths how fire came to be. The simple answer is, it always was. When the earth was first formed the sun warmed and breathed life into the creatures of the earth. With sun, came fire."_

In the early years of his life Draco had had a tutor to teach him to read and write. Some of the lessons were rather boring, but best of all he loved the ones where the tutor brought a big book and showed him pictures of molten lava, orangey red and bubbling under the earth. It changed forever the way he looked at the earth. They had made volcanoes in the schoolroom, erupting magma and ash and burying entire model towns. Sometimes they made big sheets of stone and the tutor would make them move and crash together. Towns and people would fall over and big splits appear in the surface of the stone.

Every time he had a geography lesson the first thing young Draco asked was, 'Are there volcanoes there?" He knew that he had a cousin in New Zealand, although his parents didn't like to talk about Lucius' brother. Draco had got the idea that he would probably never meet this cousin before a volcano exploded on top of him.

The Maori had a myth about how the warmth was brought to New Zealand, a thousand years before when the first settlers arrived in their waka. In winter in the mountains it was cold, bitter cold. Used to the warm equatorial islands, a senior wizard was about to die when he sent a message to his sisters back home. They travelled through sea and earth in the form of taniwha, carrying the warmth that provided cooking and comfort in the coldest parts of Aotearoa. From that time on the people of the land had naturally heated hot water for cooking and bathing.

Nowadays, Dylan told him, the thermal layer that bubbled so close to the surface of the earth was used to make the electricity that powered Dylan's computer and the lights. Active areas were fenced off and Muggles paid to go and look at them.

The day that they had gone together to the volcanic plateau, Dylan waited with his mother while the others apparated to one of the crater holes. Draco had hoped to see the lava, but the crater was full of steaming water, and mud bubbled like old porridge around the edges. He apparated back to Dylan when the sulphur fumes started to become overpowering.

He wondered what it was like, living here in the summer. Dylan had described the bush fires that raged, sometimes for weeks on end, wildfires that ran out of control consuming and renewing the forests that they ate. Muggles sent big contraptions through the air after them, dumping water on the heart of the fire. The big ones they simply couldn't defeat, they burned themselves out because no-one could control them. Fire – so simply started, so easy to control and rarely did a Muggle succeed in this most basic skill. Couldn't they _see_ that it was unnecessary? No, they just sat back and let fire take their possessions, their livelihood. They didn't know any different, and so fire was their saviour but it was also their greatest fear.

A pigeon took fright and swept out of a tree not three feet from where he stood, the noise of its wings clapping loudly in his ear. Draco saw the purply-blue belly and head flash past before it vanished into the sky.

_88888888888888888888888888_

"Leave…boggart…don't kill, Draco."

Draco shrugged. He suspected Blaise was talking in his sleep. After a few moments all four of his dorm mates – Blaise included, were breathing slowly in deep sleep. Draco slipped out.

He decided to go to the Astronomy tower, glaring at the portraits on the way when they told him off. _I'm nearly seventeen after all. Surely I can go and look out of a window at night if I want._ Nevertheless, he listened carefully for any sounds, and pressed against a doorway when he heard McGonagall's brisk step in an adjacent corridor.

He stopped on the first landing, looking at the moonlight. A furry bundle attacked his leg, chirping. He picked Proctor up, setting her on the windowsill as he looked out into the grounds.

In a few days he would be seventeen. He'd done all the theory; the Apparation test should be a doddle. Especially compared to the stuff Snape was teaching him now.

In the far distance a large shadow passed in front of the trees – Hagrid, coming back from The Three Broomsticks.

The window corners were covered in webs. Draco looked at a big black spider, crouched in the tunnel of its sheeted web. It looked a bit like a pet he'd had at home a few years ago. Percy had grown to a three inch leg span before he lost him in the garden one day. On the opposite corner was a new orb web. It was attached to the edge of the stone and spun along the window frame, forming a web of about fifteen inches diameter. The spider – a diadem – sat in the very centre of the web. Draco touched the edge of the web lightly with his finger, watching as the spider reared up and pulled the threads to find the disturbance. He touched lightly again, so that the spider started climbing towards him, walking along the sticky threads. Another spider appeared on the web, to Draco's surprise. Webs were usually one-occupant-only affairs. Then he realised what he was looking at and moved aside to get a better view through the window. The spider, realising that the 'fly' had ceased to struggle, abandoned its journey and returned to the centre of the web.

Out in the grounds Hagrid was talking with a spider the size of a horse. Draco couldn't be sure whether it was Aragog or not. He didn't know if any of the other spiders could talk. Fang was trying to slink away without being seen.

_8888_

A Ministry official tested Weasley and Draco the same day on Apparation. Both passed, to Draco's disgust. Weasley was more unbearable with every week that passed, and he'd been trying his hardest to distract him during the test. As if Weasley being two weeks older wasn't bad enough, Mrs Weasley sent him a parcel the day after he passed. Draco didn't even get a note until the following day.

They walked back to Hogwarts together after the test., a situation Draco would have done anything to avoid. After ten minutes of bickering Draco realised a solution. He started talking about his pets – Edna the python, Merissa the spider and her friend Eressea. When he started describing Percy hunting hornets in his bedroom he found himself walking alone.

"What's up Weasley? My company a bit more _sophisticated_ than you can handle?"

"You're a prat, Malfoy."

Draco walked the rest of the way on his own. As it was a Saturday he went straight to the dormitory for his broomstick. In the afternoon sun he climbed and spiralled over the Quidditch pitch, chasing clouds and birds. Eventually he pulled a golf ball out of his pocket and threw it in the air, swooping to earth to catch it before it landed.

After twenty minutes or so throwing and catching the golf ball, the rest of the Slytherin team turned up. Draco glided towards them, then turned the broom up slightly as he realised he could see another group of people walking down from the castle, clutching broomsticks. "The Gryffindors are coming, woohoo, woohoo," he sang. "The Gryffindors are coming, woohoo."

He soared away again, hovering overhead while the team captains argued with each other about who was permitted to use the pitch. After five minutes or so the teams turned their backs to each other – and mounted their broomsticks. Potter undid the clasp of the chest he'd been carrying and loosened the straps. Both teams kicked off the ground in the instant he let the balls go. Potter, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan went to sit in the stands.

_No ref. Never thought I'd see this happen_. Draco flipped his broom over and over in the air, drawing a scowl from Ginny Weasley who was flitting about, looking for the snitch. _Snitch never turns up this early._ Nevertheless, Draco straightened his broom and weaved in and out of the other players, dodging a bludger. Slytherin had already scored twice, though no one was keeping count. Draco watched a Slytherin chaser barrel into Ron Weasley, then pull away yelling – 'Oops' as one of the other chasers put the quaffle through the hoop. 'Weasley is our King' he hummed under his breath, but it wasn't effective any more. Weasley always puffed out his chest proudly when anyone sang that now.

He kept a look out for the snitch, watching out of the corner of his eye as Weasley stopped another three attempted goals. Then someone sent the quaffle through one of the Slytherin hoops. Draco dive-bombed the Gryffindor chaser, pulling out of the dive as she flattened herself along her broomstick. Then he saw it. About fifty feet straight up the snitch hung glittering. Ginny Weasley saw it at the same time, but she was at least a hundred feet further away. It was a sure thing.

"I don't think so Malfoy." Ron Weasley had nearly knocked him off his broom. He looked up. Ginny was diving down, while Crabbe and Goyle collided overhead. He swung back up at the same time as Ginny, but the snitch was gone. Together they dived and somersaulted to avoid the bludgers – Crabbe and Goyle were still dazed from their attempted attack on Ginny.

The Gryffindor beaters caught up with the bludgers and sent them towards Slytherin's chasers. Draco decided to mark Ginny, letting her look for the snitch. _I'm a better flier – I'll overtake her if she moves._ Twice she feinted, the second time nearly leading him into colliding with his own keeper.

The quaffle was moving so fast it was impossible to keep track of the score. Draco saw a Gryffindor beater barrelling backwards with a bludger in his stomach. The balls flew back and forward till the sun began to set. Gryffindor were down to only two chasers now – one of their team was on the ground and the stands were half full of students.

Ginny turned upwards sharply. She had almost slipped off her broom a couple of times, half asleep. This time it wasn't a feint. Draco tracked her up, up till the other players were almost out of sight. Then he saw it and urged his broom to increase speed – she had obviously had her eye on it from several hundred feet below. _Any second now it'll probably vanish._ She was reaching for it.

She dived sharply, gliding down to the ground. Draco followed, landing gently on the grass. His legs were shaking from so long on the broomstick. Ginny fell over after a few steps, stretching her legs out on the ground to get some feeling back into them before Potter helped her up and put the snitch back in its case.

A Gryffindor beater fell out of the sky. Neither team had realised that the game was over.

Draco followed Ginny Weasley and some of the other students back into the castle. Professor McGonagall ran past without a word, heading for the pitch. It was now almost dark and Draco could hear her voice, magically ampliphied as she shouted at the players to return to the ground.

_8888_

The following Monday Draco smirked at a group of people with mops and buckets, waiting for Filch after dinner. Getting back into the castle had been a smart move – he and little Ginny might have missed dinner, but every-one still in the air when McGonagall got there on Saturday night had missed dinner _and_ got detention.

Snape had looked rather bad-tempered earlier. It was rumoured among the Slytherins that he and Professor McGonagall had – shall we say, _words_, over the two injured Gryffindors. Of course, as the students knew, neither of the professors had anything to do with the game. If anyone was complaining about injuries it should be the teams. Draco suspected there would be some fun in the bathrooms tonight – Filch was never one to diplomatically separate students _before_ they started fighting. You could almost see the thoughts ticking through his slow head. _'Sooner or later, if they're bad enough, I'll be allowed to chain them by their feet from the dungeon ceilings.'_ Draco might have been worried if he hadn't realised that nearly every teacher in the school would have to leave before that was allowed.

When Draco arrived at Snape's office he knocked, and listened for an answer, but it didn't come. As the door was slightly ajar, he decided to go in and wait.

Draco almost jumped out of his skin when he realised Snape was there already. He was lying with his head on an open book, breathing softly. A little trickle of saliva had reached the table – Proctor did that too when she was sleeping. Draco hesitated, considering whether to wake him up, or leave and pretend he hadn't been there. He did neither.

_Whatever happens, he'll be angry when he wakes up. Either because I'm late, or because I've seen him sleeping_. Draco looked curiously at the professor. He hadn't stirred when Draco had sat down, or when he cleared his throat slightly. He fingered his wand, but decided he didn't need it. After all, Snape didn't need a wand to cross-examine the first years.

Draco probed gently. Snape had been arguing with himself – there was a stern command right behind his eyes, _'There is work to do. You will stay awake.'_ Obviously the opposing argument had won. Images flicked across the retina – Snape was dressed up as a bear, chasing first years. They skirt round Professor McGonagall and he runs right into her in his bear costume, whereupon she starts giggling. Bear-costumed Snape kisses her on the cheek and runs after the first years, who have by now disappeared…

_Interesting dreams, Snape_. Draco probed further. He saw a dark house, a library lined with books, the dust inches thick on the shelves. Broken furniture – a chair went flying past a dark-haired boy, smashing on the stone wall behind. He turned and shouted at the thrower – Draco saw a woman with straight black hair, tall and thin. The woman gripped his arm, screaming in his ear. The boy struggled, but he was thin and weak. When the woman ordered him to go, he went. Defiance burned in his eyes, but he obeyed.

Another memory. Draco saw fear in the white face of a man. They were in a forest, Snape threatening him. Startled, Draco recognised their first year Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. He had disappeared, some said dead. No one really missed him.

A girl with long red hair, looking at him in disdain. Snape tried to talk with her, pleading with her to listen. A boy with untidy black hair – _Potter? No, older than Potter_ – met the girl and insulted Snape. Hand in hand they walked away. Draco could almost 'feel' the moment, like when he'd been depressed before Halloween.

A dark place – bright lights, noises and pain. Waiting. Hurting.

_This is too much. Professor Snape? No-one can hurt this much_. Draco couldn't look at any more. When Snape woke up a moment later he was staring at the books on the table.

_8888_

"Draco Malfoy. How long have you been here?" _He knows!_ Draco dropped his eyes.

"I'm sorry Professor, I've just arrived. I was helping Pansy find her kitten after dinner."

Snape dismissed him early that evening, and Draco sped towards the common room, his released thoughts in turmoil. He tried to make some sense of what he had seen in Snape's head, but his own memories kept dwelling on the last thought he had observed. Someone had been cursing him. _He must have nearly died. No-one can live through that sort of pain._

He was relieved to find the common room busy. As soon as he got in he persuaded Blaise and Nott to abandon their homework for the night and join him in word games. For the rest of the evening they played 'I spell', 'Anagrams' and 'Bluff'. As a result he was entirely unable to dwell on what he had seen and felt in Snape's brain, and somehow managed to get to sleep without thinking about it again. He was a great deal more worried about the fact that he'd challenged the boys to play 'Truth or Dare' the following night, as he fell asleep, than anything he'd seen inside Snape's head.

_8888_

"Oh – I'm interrupting something." Draco looked curiously at the Gryffindors. "What are you doing?"

Potter lowered his wand as Granger started getting up from the floor.

"I was hexing her. What did it look like?"

"It looks like you missed. I don't think Poppy would be happy if she knew what you lot were up to."

"Get out, Malfoy. We don't need an audience."

"I should think not. I shall leave you to your games." He closed the door of the Charms classroom. Parvati had thrown him a rather evil look as he delivered that last sentence. _Almost a rival to my own devilish good looks, _he thought, mentally preening

"Draco."

"Oh, there you are Lisa. I see we're not welcome in Charms."

"I've got permission to use the Transfiguration classroom. It's only for today." Lisa let the way down to McGonagall's classroom. She had already cleared a space near the teacher's desk.

"McGonagall says Potter and Granger and some of the others need the Charms classroom today – they're practising stunning or something."

"Looked a lot more advanced than stunning. I think Professor McGonagall might have been a bit economical with the truth. You'd be amazed what you can learn if you keep your ears open around Dumbledore's pet students."

"You know something then?"

"I didn't say I did."

"You implied it."

"Did not."

"Did."

"Okay, so I know that Potter is a scumbag who quit Quidditch because he's scared of falling off his broomstick and not being around to save the world."

"That's not true."

"'Tis."

"I thought he did it because he wanted Ginny Weasley to have a chance."

"He could've been a chaser if he'd wanted. No, he is denying the Gryffindor team his miniscule talents because he's a scaredy cat."

"Draco – you're ridiculous. Let's get on with the practise."

_8888_

"You're getting pretty good at this Draco," Lisa said as Draco finished his individual routine and flopped onto the floor.

"I miss those cushions."

"Seriously Draco, if you were in Russia we'd have you in ballet school. No one ignores talent like that."

"Miss Turpin," Draco sat up and placed both hands over his heart. "You flatter me, but 'twill never succeed. My love is given and my life is finished." He flopped back onto the floor, staring at the ceiling.

"Master Draco must move. Get up sir."

"Say Dobby – you're getting a bit uppity aren't you." Draco stared at the little creature with the too-large ears.

"Dumbledore says Dobby may ask wizards to move. And you were a _cruel_ master. Dumbledore is… Dumbledore is the best wizard ever."

Draco stood up and sat on a desk while Dobby the house-elf pushed his broom around the floor.

"As I was saying," said Lisa. 'Dumbledore wants to have a little display at the end of next term. You know, have students showcase their talents."

"You'll enjoy that," said Draco, his eyes on Dobby. "You could do that ribbon thing – it looks good. I'll bet no-one else plays the cello either."

"Actually Draco, we're going to do the Beauty and the Beast waltz followed by the floor routine I've been teaching you since Christmas."

"We! I," Draco jumped off the desk, accompanied by a sharp squeak from the elf. He removed his foot from the house-elf's size 9 maroon socks as Lisa stood facing him, her arms folded. Dobby glared at him and carried on sweeping.

"I'm beginning to feel very… intimidated here," Draco said, looking from the house-elf to Lisa and back again.

"You do what the mistress says," snarled Dobby. "It's time you learnt to behave like a gentleman – if that were possible." He put his brush away and fetched a mop and bucket.

"Dobby knows wizards who had none of Master Draco's advantages, who are full of goodness and kind of heart. The great Harry Potter would never slight a lady."

"All right, I know when I'm not welcome," Draco snarled back. He stalked out, followed by Lisa.

"You'll be great Draco. Come on, we'll make the school sit up. Don't you want everyone to know how good you are?"

"At dancing? I don't think so. What would…" He stopped. Why couldn't he get Granger out of his mind, he'd almost said her name just then. _What would Hermione Granger say if she knew I was practising ballet._

"Never mind," he said. "Meet you after school tomorrow – but I'm not getting up on any stage." Lisa hugged him and ran back to Ravenclaw. Dobby opened the door, struggling with the brush, mop and bucket, while he was still standing there. He glared at Draco and stuck his tongue out.

_Well, if that isn't the rudest house-elf ever, _Draco thought.._ We're well rid of him._


	10. Montane Hope Chapter 10

Chapter 10 (of 16)

The ground stood in soft ridges along the path. Draco tried to avoid the deep mud, but a misjudgement caused Dylan's walking boot to sink partially into it. He grabbed the branch of a tree and pulled his foot out, coated to the top of the laces with watery black slime.

The mud patches had been frequent since passing the little peak on the way up. A little earlier he had passed what looked like a pile of squishy ochre sludge. It was actually a fallen tree whose rotten shreds had soaked up the moisture from the ground.

Draco tried to avoid dwelling on water, or thinking about it. Snape emphasised that it was the most important element to consider, and the most dangerous. _Dangerous alright_. He still vividly remembered the terror of being in those crashing waves that night when he dreamed he was Potter. Having seen the place since then in real-life hadn't helped, he still felt quite nervous of the sea.

Dylan's father took them to see a glacier when they first arrived. Draco had stood and watched the ice-blue water rushing out of a cave towards the sea. Every few minutes the glacier would 'calve' into the water with a muffled roar that shook the ice on which they were standing. The glacier itself sat on a slippery layer of the meltwater that formed the river. Draco was impressed by the sheer power of the ice, apparently inert, but alive, moving, changing all the time. The glaciated hill had been unknowing and uncaring of the humans that crept up its icy slopes like beetles. The ice was tinged blue wherever it was more than a few inches thick, glistening blue like Draco's favourite colour.

Later that same day they watched the sea sweep over a steep, pebbly beach. Draco sat underneath a huge clump of flax. His mother almost fell into a little river when the sandy bank gave way and she came hurriedly back to join him. They watched Lucius and his brother stand on the very edge of the ocean, watching the waves sweep in over pebbles that fell away so sharply it would have been over Lucius' head if he'd taken two steps out. Out there was nothing at all. Sure, Australia if you went far enough. You couldn't see it, and if you missed it you could almost circumnavigate the globe without hitting land. Water and air and nothing else. More than Draco wanted to think about.

Draco now stepped across the roots that snaked across the path, uneven shapes of hard-packed earth between them. He lowered himself carefully down a short steep section, feeling for the next little root or ledge with his foot before transferring his weight forward, off his arms. As the track levelled out and started climbing again he noticed a fern tree, not far down the slope. In the very centre of its spread were two, tightly curled fern fronds. The Maori symbol for life. The symbol itself was etched on books and in several places around Dylan's house, but to see it for real was quite different.

_Hope. Hope for the future. They are big, I didn't know the ponga frond was so big._ He passed quickly on, holding the image of the pale green spirals in his mind.

_88888888888888888_

How come you couldn't do it Ron?

**My spider** (drawing of spider with legs in air)

Ron's spider (Drawing of spider running away)

_Get lost guys. That sucks. _

**What sucks? I think the drawings are quite cute actually. **

_I don't want to talk. _

**Ron doesn't want to talk. **

Why not?

**I wouldn't want to talk either if I'd lost my spider** (drawing of a spider running away)

Will you boys stop being silly. Turning piggy banks into hedgehogs is really important.

_You tell them Hermione. _

**Yeah – like we won't get a job if we can't. **

Basic transfiguration is the basis for - oh never mind.

**I thought you wanted to help us Hermione. **

I do, Harry. You don't need that curse. It's Illegal

**Illegal? **

_I didn't know that. _

Stop being silly and pay attention. Of course you knew it.

Ron – pick your wand up. McG's looking.

**He don't know how to use it, he don't know how to use it** (drawing of musical notes)

That is pathetic. How childish…

McG's coming.

Transfigure Ron. Not into a paper aeroplane, into a quill.

_Shucks, that was close. _

**Good thing it was the parchment you transfigured and not the desk Neville. **

Did Neville do that? Well done Neville. (drawing of stars)

What did the spider really do when you cursed it, Ron?

_SHUT UP. Okay.._

Will you stop rustling that parchment. Some people are trying to work.

**Yeah, like Hermione** (drawing of a stack of books)

_Oops, I nearly L O L. Good drawing Harry. _

(picture of a # with o's and x's)

You boys are so childish. Don't complain to me if you fail your Transfiguration NEWT.

_8888_

Draco picked the scrap of parchment off the floor. McGonagall's eyes had swept over the group several times. If she was suspicious, something was going on. Ten minutes before the end Potter, Weasley and Longbottom had all transfigured their piggybanks and put them in the cage with all the other hedgehogs. Hermione Granger's sleek, spiky hedgehog had spent most of the class transforming piggybank/hedgehog/piggybank till Draco felt dizzy looking at it. It wasn't as if she needed to practise, she could obviously do it.

"Quickly, Ron, Harry, Neville. Let's go meet Luna and Ginny – you-know-where. Oh – Neville!" Hermione stopped to pick up the books Longbottom had knocked over in their scramble to pack their bags and go. They were first out the door – and none of them had noticed that their illicit communication had been left behind on the floor.

_That's something to remember. Illegal curses. They'd flip if they knew that I knew._ Draco sauntered off to get his broomstick.

_8888_

A few days later Draco was playing wizard chess with Blaise. Blaise had never been very good at chess. Not till Pansy started helping him, that is.

"Does Snape have a family?" Draco asked, moving his knight into the middle of the board.

Blaise moved his bishop. "I shouldn't have done that, should I?" Pansy leaned over his shoulder, telling him how to correct it with the next move.

"Don't think so. Though he must have been a kid once I s'pose," he said as Draco swept down a pawn.

"I just wondered. You don't know who his parents are then?"

"I do," said Pansy. "At least, I know their names, not them personally."

She got up and left. Four moves later Draco had checkmated Blaise. They were tipping the chess men back into their box when Pansy returned carrying a very old, tatty book. She sat down between them and flipped it open. It was full of photos.

"Is that you Pansy? What a sweet baby you were."

"Don't be ridiculous Blaise."

She turned the pages so fast that Draco had only a glimpse of a solemn child standing with her thumb in her mouth, next to the smiling baby photo. By about five years old she had changed immensely.

"There. That's my Mum and Dad. And that…" She pointed to a darkhaired couple beside her parents. "That's Snape's Mum and Dad. Snape was probably at Hogwarts – I mean, as a student – when that photo was taken."

Draco leaned over for a closer look. Snape looked like his mother. She could have been pretty if she wasn't so tired. She wasn't looking at the photographer. When she moved her skin rippled eerily, pulling tight against the scars.

"She was an auror," said Pansy. "I don't know where she is now, maybe she died. He's in Azkaban."

Draco looked at the slightly-greying man. He looked perfectly respectable.

"What did he do?"

"I don't know. I heard it was a domestic problem – but my auntie told me that. She never really knew them. Snape had a little brother and sister once, twins. They didn't attend Hogwarts. I think they must have died young."

"I wonder why Snape never married," Blaise said. "I mean, he doesn't go home to a wife or anything in the holidays, does he?"

Pansy raised her eyebrows. "Or anything! Blaise, what are you talking about?"

"He wouldn't be too pleased… ah." Draco didn't complete his sentence.

"Miss Parkinson, Mr Malfoy, a word please." Blaise closed the photo album as Pansy and Draco followed Snape into his office. When they returned ten minutes later Blaise was looking at the photos near the back of the album. Pansy took her book out of his hands, slapped him and marched off to her dorm with it, Proctor at her heels.

"What was that about?"

"I think that book's pretty special to Pansy," said Draco. "It's probably only half as old as it looks."

"What'd Snape want?"

"Prefect duties. We've to help the first and second years get organised for Easter."

Draco flopped onto the sofa in front of the fire again.

"You going home for Easter, Blaise?"

"Yeah, aren't you?"

"No." He stared at the ceiling. Parts of it were growing moss.

"Draco?"

"Yeah"

"Pansy was the prettiest baby ever."

_8888_

"It's really easy. Don't flick your wand, just give it a gentle wave. Speak nice and slow. Because you're trying to get a flowing movement, anything abrupt will block the thought. Look. _Purpurea_." Purple flowed down the wall. "Just try and do it on a flat area. Look. _Cerulean_." The closest part of a desk and chair and part of a wall turned sea-blue. The brown wood and white panelling showed wherever the surface had been uneven. There was a perfect white outline of a chair on the wall.

When Lisa had finished decorating the room they sat in the box of cushions to read. Draco flopped in on his stomach to start with, but before long found his book dull. He rolled over among the cushions a couple of times and adjusted the room colouring – he liked ice blue and green, and it set off Lisa's pinks and purples nicely. Just an accent here and there. Satisfied with the colour scheme, he sat next to Lisa and put his arm round her, leaning over to read her book. It was more interesting than his one. There were lots of pictures of people and anecdotes from their lives – no wonder Lisa got a good OWL in History of Magic.

Harry Potter looked absolutely stunned. He stood in the doorway, surveying the room. Then he noticed Draco.

"Well, Malfoy."

"Like our decorations, Potter." Draco caught Potter's eye, enjoying his discomfort. He was shuffling his feet and trying to look away.

"Er… didn't mean to… that is, Snape wants to see you about your remedial potions."

Draco pressed his lips against Lisa's cheek briefly. "Catch you later, sweetpea." He glanced at Potter out of the corner of his eye, satisfied to see him blush, before he got up and sauntered over to the door.

"So, Malfoy's got a girlfriend, huh?' Potter said once the door had shut behind them.

Draco smirked. "Not really any of your business Potter." Before he could step away Parvati Patil swept round the corner.

"Harry, I've been looking for you everywhere." She stopped abruptly. 'How dare you! With Malfoy? I thought it was me you loved." She grabbed the front of his robes and pulled his head down so that she could reach it. Draco's laughter rang through the corridor – Potter ears were deep crimson. When he turned the corner Parvati and Potter were still snogging.

_88888888888888888888888888_

Tiny red toadstools grew out of the side of a tree root, next to the path. They reminded Draco that he was hungry – they were shaped like Cornish pasties. _Not something I'm likely to get at Dylan's place, unfortunately_. His stomach was successfully attracting his attention (jumping up and down under his ribs) and visions of loaded tables in the Great Hall at Hogwarts were rather more than he could stand.

He kept walking, his mind drifting back to Hogwarts. _I wonder what it is that Dumbledore wants me to do this summer_. He remembered first finding out about Neorancia, wondering what had attracted him to the technique in the first place. Visualising the future was fun. It didn't occur to him that he might not master Neorancia, or that it would need hard work and application to begin to accomplish anything. _Six Newts – no problem. Might get top marks out of Slytherin – if Nott slows down a bit. Or even Head Boy. He visualised himself, his hair slick and gleaming, wearing the Head Boy badge. No prizes for guessing who'll be Head Girl next year – ugh! At least Weasley won't be running the school. None of the teachers are_ that _stupid_.

_I wonder what Father will do for a job now. He can't go back to the consultancy – doubt he wants to go back to Britain at all in fact_. His mind drifted off into other areas. Draco didn't spend time thinking what he would do when he left school – time enough to worry about that when it came. He'd told Snape in fifth year that he wanted to work for the Ministry of Magic, but only for the sake of having something to say – imagine Snape's expression if he'd said he didn't know.

_A future knowing Neorancia – I must be one of the only wizards in my generation to start learning it. It could lead to – World Minister, why not. I'd have a dozen house elves to cook my meals and press my robes. Or maybe a hermit – I'd live in a cave encrusted with chandeliers and write books – like Alice Black did. Well, not a total hermit. I'd have friends over as long as they didn't disturb me when I was writing. Or – now that's a better idea. I only need a little room. I could probably figure out a way of soundproofing it and come out and see the wife and kids when I'm finished work. Seven kids. I can study some of the genealogies when I go back to school, see which families have lots of kids. Ours never has, but that wouldn't matter if the girl was fertile. Not till I leave school of course – but that's only a year away._

Draco was walking past huge roots, a small fern tree growing up between them. The trunk didn't start properly till over his head height, where it had been split so that Draco could look up in to the heart of the tree. He hadn't seen a single mammal since he started the walk – plenty of birdlife. It was a little like being back in the days before men came to New Zealand, when the bush and the hill and the birds existed alone, untormented. _This path wouldn't have been here then, just thick green undergrowth, with maybe a moa or two_.


	11. Montane Hope Chapter 11

Chapter 11 (of 16)

After the Easter holidays a slow, steady panic settled over most of the school, especially those students coming up to OWLs or NEWTs. Sixth year students were slightly less pressured, but they still had interim exams to revise for. Lisa had once again come back to school lighter from her holiday practising – and with a present for Draco.

"They were my Dad's when he was a little older than you. It's good material, made in Russia." Draco lifted the folds of silken, shiny material out of the box. The tunic and tights were grey, a perfect foil to his naturally pale colouring.

"Just slip them on before your last class. No-one'll know if they're under your robes."

After classes each day – except for when there was Quidditch practice – Draco dropped his bag inside the door of the Charms classroom and warmed up while Lisa played her cello. As soon as she had done some stretching and simple exercises they would spend twenty minutes on the dances she devised, then the next ten warming down and relaxing before running downstairs in time for dinner. It made for a very full day, with extra study after dinner and Subneorancia on Mondays as well. Draco's sleep was usually deep and dreamless.

One night Draco returned to the common room after dinner to find Elddir storytelling again, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, who shifted nervously when they saw him. The first years' faces were white and fearful. Draco sat down in an armchair across the room, his eyes on Marv Elddir. There was an uneasy silence for a couple of moments before Draco spoke.

"Spit it out then. I'm not stopping you from telling your stories."

"It's not exactly a story," Elddir mumbled.

"Let's hear it anyway. I'd like to know why little Susie looks so scared."

Elddir looked apologetic. "It's just, I heard – that is, my uncle is going to come here."

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? You told us that before." A couple of the first years shuddered at the reference to Voldemort.

"Yes, but he really is going to come. This term. He's going to finish off Harry Potter once and for all."

"Well that won't be much loss. You still haven't said anything new – apart from the 'this term' business."

"And he's going to kill Snape."

Draco drew in his breath sharply. "What do you mean; he's going to kill Snape? Snape's a…" He stopped. It was likely that very few of the students actually knew that Snape was a Death Eater, he wasn't about to tell them.

"He says Snape is a traitor and needs to be got rid of."

"Have you told Professor Snape this?"

The boy looked blank, and Draco could see from his face that he hadn't considered mentioning it to Snape.

"N-no. When he's got rid of the people he doesn't need, he's going to kidnap a few key people at the Ministry of Magic – including that chap with heaps of kids that works in the Muggle section. Once he's done that he won't have to hide any more – no-one will stop him if it means he'll kill those people."

"Where do you get your stories from, Elddir?"

Marv Elddir gave him a rather smug look. The youngsters started to disperse, sensing that there was no more story happening.

_aeiou_

Lisa laid her cello aside gently and took off her robes, revealing the blue tunic underneath. Draco was already in the cleared section of the Charms classroom, bending over with his hands behind his calves. The silk felt good, smooth and slippery. He glanced down at his tight grey tunic as he straightened up, holding his hand out to her.

Midway through the routine they paused, Lisa balancing in mid-air with her hands on Draco's. He counted silently the time before she started to swing down: 5-4-3… **CRASH**.

"Uh, sorry, did I disturb something?"

Lisa flipped lightly back onto the floor. Draco's heart had leapt into his throat with the shock, and he turned around to see who was there. Pansy was standing next to the door with her mouth open. Just a second ago she'd been staring at Draco's profile, the tunic and tights not leaving much to the imagination.

"I forgot a book," she said, walking over and picking it up from Professor Flitwick's desk. "See you later Draco. Nice look." She raised an eyebrow and tightened her lips as she walked out. Draco buried his face in his hands.

"I'm for it now! She'll tell everyone."

_aeiou_

Draco was finding it hard to concentrate during his Subneorancia lesson. Every time he tried to clear his mind he saw the stunned look on Pansy's face – he'd wanted to die with embarrassment. Perhaps that is why he let his guard slip slightly. Before he knew what was happening he noticed a couple of thoughts unravelling – thoughts he would rather not have revealed.

"**NO!** Get out of there you ...!" Snape actually stepped back a pace as Draco headed for him, arms flailing. Next thing Draco knew, he was on the floor in a full body bind.

Snape was leaning over him, a penetrating look in his eyes. Draco closed his eyes – if he could have curled up and died he would have done. His limbs starting coming to life again as Snape lifted the spell, tingling as they did. He sat up, leaning forward to touch his toes.

"Sit down, Draco."

Draco sat in a chair. _This dying thing is very drawn-out. Get it over with quickly – then I won't have to face Pansy again_.

"Draco, a man's brain is a marvellous thing. That is why I emphasise the importance of learning Occlumency. You are the third student I have taught it to – and the shallowest. The other two found the art of concealing considerably more difficult because their emotions get in the way. Because…" Snape was leaning very close to Draco, so that the last three words were almost whispered in his ear. "…they have suffered.

"Trials, whether they are such that we have no control over, or those that are self-imposed, make a character stronger. As a person learns to cope with and overcome his trials he achieves a depth of character, and a depth of feeling, that was previously unattainable. This will affect his decisions in the future. Some time ago I mentioned the importance of humility. You may have thought my words harsh, but it is true, that you are not humble enough to learn.

"Each year I see students who carry their burdens of guilt, unhappiness, fear, anger. As they progress through school their burdens become lighter – not because the thing itself has changed, but because the student has greater capacity to carry it. You, however, are among the few that have failed to mature. You've had everything you ever wanted and been protected almost before you realised you needed protection. Such an upbringing rarely makes a man.

"This year, you have begun to suffer. At the start of the year you ignored those of us who tried to guide you, and went your own way. Your response to my little lecture in October was good, but it was not enough. You have a lot of improvement to make before you are mature enough to leave school, let alone move onto Neorancia.

"Face up to your problems Draco. Allow yourself to realise what they are. And get out there and face Pansy and the rest of the school."

Snape went and stood in the corner of the room, holding his chin in his right hand and watching Draco keenly. Draco stared at the floor. He had felt a rise of anger at the suggestion that Snape had been responsible for his change in attitude last October, but as he listened the words made sense. One of those rare glimmers of understanding that had increasingly beset him since he started studying Subneorancia told him that he was hearing the truth.

Snape knew! Whether he had known before or not… Draco felt a sudden urge for Madam Pomfrey's strawberry flavoured medicine. With a consideration he wouldn't have expected from Snape, his Head of House walked over to the door, opened it and left, shutting it firmly behind him.

The grief Draco had vehemently buried since returning to school flowed to the surface, his thoughts dwelling on it in a spasm of self-pity. His Father's imprisonment, his Mother's withdrawal from him and subsequent abandonment of appropriate behaviour. The fear that had been left unspoken about how his Father was being treated and would he ever get out? – and would his parents stay together if he did? And now, to cap everything off, Pansy had seen him half-naked, dancing with a girl and the whole school was sure to know by morning.

Twenty minutes later Draco dried his eyes and left the room with the firm resolve to accept whatever was coming. Snape was talking – apparently quite pleasantly – with Granger just up the corridor as he turned the other way, towards the common room.

_aeiou_

He stepped through the door, into silence. All eyes were on him as he walked over to the sofa in front of the fire, ignoring the sniggers. A few people started whispering as he sat on the floor, his back turned to Blaise and Pansy who were sprawled across the sofa, as usual.

"Hey Draco!" The tension in the room lifted somewhat as Blaise spoke.

"Blaise."

"What's this I hear about you dancing with little Lisa Turpin?"

"Lisa's a very good dancer."

"So I hear, but you, Draco…"

Draco turned on him with a threatening look. Blaise opened his eyes wide in mock fear.

"You, Draco, are a man. You've got to keep the show up mate."

"Yeah, Pansy can tell you I'm a man." To his surprise Pansy blushed and hid her face.

"What's with the costume then?"

"Showing off everything I've got in the hope that some gorgeous female will burst in unexpectedly." Pansy's face was still hidden, but Draco could see the blush spreading down the back of her neck. Blaise followed his eyes and laughed.

"I'll leave you guys to it – I think I'm embarrassing Pansy."

Draco ignored the stares that followed him to the dorm. Within a few minutes he was asleep, too involved in weird dreams to worry about the next day.

_aeiouaeiou_

"How many gallons of water did we leave there?"

"About forty."

"That's not enough."

"Hermione, no-one else worries about every little detail like you do."

"I just wish we had another boggart to practise on."

"HERMIONE!"

Every-one nearby looked towards the group. Draco was lounging in the sun, his back against a tree, discreetly listening.

"All right." She was making an interesting motion, sort of crossing and waving her hands. Draco was puzzled for a moment until he realised it meant the discussion was finished, over. She rolled over to lie on the grass, reading. Potter, Weasley and Longbottom continued their conversation over her back, but Draco was unable to make out more than the odd word. He got up unobtrusively and sat on a rock, underneath the statue of Godric Gryffindor. They had dropped their voices so much that it was still hard to hear, but in a minute or so he found that he could understand.

"How is your plan going Harry? Is the manticore coming when called yet?"

"Not bad Ron. We'll train him yet, but we need to get Snape out of the way first. How about…" His voice dropped so much that it was completely inaudible, then Hermione joined the conversation again.

"Don't bother with that. Just lob a tickling charm at him, or a few drops of melting potion. By the time someone thinks to restore him, we'll have the manticore in the dorm and he'll never know."

"Hermione, how's the red herring smoking."

"Not bad at all, but it's not quite ready yet. Are you going to check the manticore tonight?'

"Yeah, I reckon he'll need fed."

"Hagrid said you could take a first year if you wanted. Some-one like little Susie or Hadley, they'd never be missed."

Draco stiffened – both first years were in his house.

"Why don't you take Snape?" That was Longbottom's voice. "Then you wouldn't have to feed him again till next week."

"Snape!" Potter snorted. "No self-respecting manticore would touch him."

Draco looked past the statue at them. Granger was sitting with her arms wrapped round her knees, shaking with giggles.

"Do you think if it did eat Snape, we wouldn't have to hand in our Potions homework?"

"Look Ron, once it's safely ensconced in my dorm and we set our little plan of action rolling no-one will be thinking a boutpotionshomework." She said that last bit very fast, before letting out a snort of laughter.

_Ah! Now should I confront them with it – or sneak away and pretend I wasn't here_. Immediately the choice was made for him – the four of them were on their feet and strolling towards the statue.

"Malfoy! Fancy seeing you here."

Weasley had a most peculiar expression on his face. When Potter spoke he looked back at where they had been sitting, then at Draco, then back where they had been again.

"Er, Malfoy… you didn't happen to hear anything, did you?"

"Hear anything? You mean apart from the plans to smuggle a manticore into Granger's dormitory?"

Potter's lips twitched, he was trying not to smile.

"I did promise you that when I got a manticore I'd introduce you. See you, Ta ra!" Granger waved her hand prettily, then turned and glided away, the boys following.

_aeiou_

Proctor sat on the table on front of Pansy, blinking and staring and twitching her ears. Draco absentmindedly passed his hand over her head. She turned round and grabbed it, gently biting and chewing at his fingers.

"You've done enough studying surely," he said to Pansy, moving his hand out of Proctor's reach, "are you coming for dinner?"

"As you're properly dressed," she said, looking him up and down, "I will."

Blaise ran to join them as they left the dungeons. By now fewer people stared at Draco as he passed, and he was finding it easier to ignore when they did. Besides, he had told Pansy and Blaise about the Gryffindors' manticore and Pansy had fallen off the sofa laughing – especially when he admitted that 'they probably knew I was behind the statue.'

The three of them were sitting at the table, just about to start eating when Draco suddenly became aware of some-one behind him. A hand lightly touched the back of his neck as Potter leaned over his shoulder.

"Nice tunic, Draco."

He looked over at the Gryffindor table as they sat down. Granger signalled a thumbs up and Potter winked.

"Wha… It's three days since you caught me Pansy. News fair travels slowly in this school." The back of his neck was still tingling from the touch.

"Blaise, will you look at that. Potter's made him blush." Draco pushed his plate away and put his head on the table.

_I'll show them. They won't be laughing soon_. When he cooled down he sat up and tried to eat, trying to ignore the group of Gryffindors talking animatedly at their table, while glancing towards him.

That evening Proctor curled up on his lap under the table where he was trying to study. The atmosphere of the common room always changed at this time of year. Every-one had exams coming up. OWL and NEWT students were almost tearing their hair out in frustration and Draco could occasionally hear people pacing their dorms or declaiming spells at night when they should have been sleeping. Even Crabbe and Goyle were studying – or trying to. Goyle's book had been upside down for the past half hour and his eyes looked completely blank – as though he was asleep with them open.

Five minutes later the book slipped out of Goyle's hand with a crash that startled everyone and elicited a loud grunt from Goyle. Draco closed his books.

"I'm going for a walk."

_aeiou_

Dumbledore's Army – the name was a school joke now – were practising their Defence skills in the DADA classroom as he passed. Draco was half inclined to mooch over to the Astronomy tower and look out of the window again, but on second thoughts he turned back and opened the door. The shrivelled witch that taught the class nodded to acknowledge his presence, then turned back to attend to a couple of first years. He sat down to watch. Dumbledore's Army had grown considerably since last year. Most of the Gryffindors were there of course. Cho Chang (Ravenclaw seeker), Luna Lovegood (Ravenclaw lunatic) and a number of Hufflepuffs. No Slytherins at all. That figured. Potter had started the original club and he and his team had made sure no Slytherins were invited, or even knew of it.

Potter himself was sitting with his usual friends, talking. None of them were bothering to practise their hex deflection, except little Ginny who lazily waved her wand every time a hex drifted their way.

The DADA teacher was never still, watching the proceedings with a sharp eye and using her own wand to block and redirect some of the hexes. Draco watched her row a girl who had successfully disarmed – literally – her partner, then she turned towards him, beckoning with a wizened grey hand as she stood beside a sappy kid. Draco reluctantly got up and moved towards them, knowing he was going to be asked to partner the boy. He stared after the teacher as she walked to the next couple and explained a spell, wondering if she could really be over two hundred years old. He was beginning to believe it.

To his surprise, the youngster kept him on his toes for the next ten minutes – he was a good dueller and Draco found himself too busy avoiding hexes to throw very many.

The teacher dismissed them and walked out. The rest of the students left in twos and threes, chattering like a flock of geese. Draco was about to follow them when he realised that Potter and his friends hadn't moved. _Aren't they leaving?_ He sat down again. One Slytherin against five Gryffindors and a Ravenclaw was very bad odds, but he was more curious than fearful.

"Don't you have a home, Malfoy?"

"Don't you?" They had been about to move into the empty space in the middle of the classroom when they realised he was still there.

"We've got some hex deflection to practise."

"Really? I didn't see you trying very hard earlier."

"We mean serious hex deflection, Malfoy."

"Wouldn't want to hurt ickle firsties," cut in Weasley.

"Draco Malfoy, if you stay you will be hurt," said Granger.

"Is that a threat?" Draco squared his shoulders and stood up, trying to look bold. Potter glanced at Weasley, then Granger. Granger looked as though she was trying to hide a grin.

"Merely a warning. We don't need to threaten…" she burst out laughing.

"Leave the guy alone," said Ginny. "The whole school's been staring at him for days."

"Good, time he knew what that was like," said Potter. He turned back to Draco. "Haven't you gone yet?"

Draco shrugged. Neville was standing on one foot, swinging his arms in the air in an attempted – and pathetic – execution of a pirouette. If he'd tried to parody Draco when he was on his own… but with another five people to support him, Draco wasn't stupid enough to reach for his wand. He also resisted the temptation to show Neville how to place his feet correctly – the clumsy oaf was so ugly it made him wince.

"Cupboard," said Luna, pointing. "That's the place for refugees." Hermione nodded.

"Right Malfoy, if you won't sod off you can get in the cupboard and we won't hurt you. Otherwise we won't be held responsible."

"Are you guys crazy?" Draco laughed. The expression on Granger's face suggested that she wasn't joking. "Oh all right, you can have your time alone. I hear you probably won't have much longer, Potter. Enjoy your time on earth." He backed out of the door and stood outside, listening. The little pane of glass burst into a frenzy of colour. _What are they doing, air-writing?_

No – they were throwing hexes about. Serious hexes, judging by the colours and explosions. He pressed his face against the glass. Jets of light were bouncing around, fast and furious. The six students were moving so fast they looked blurred, as they ducked and jumped the spells. Neville was flat out on the floor within seconds and as he watched Granger collapsed as well. Presumably the last person standing woke them up and reversed the spells – though from the hexes they were using Draco suspected that would be beyond the skill of even Madam Pomfrey or most of the teachers.

He continued on to the Astronomy tower, a slightly wicked idea forming as he did so. _That would be a fantastic game for the Slytherin common room. I think I'll let some of the other students in on the idea – just before I leave school next year._

AEIOUAEIOUAEIOUAEIOU

Draco walked passed a tree with long slim branches, dripping with five different types of moss. Some of the strands had come adrift and floated in soft cushions across the path. Curling around the moss two or three different creepers crept up the trunk. One of them coated the tree with little round leaves, on top of the moss.

_I wonder what sort of a person Alice Black was. We know so little about her, but she must have had parents. She would have been a little girl once. And after she left school she moved into the highlands of Wester Ross. Who did she take with her? Were they school friends? The commune came later. I think she must have lived in a cave for a while._

Draco was walking slowly, not really noticing the things around him. His mind was in the past, back in the seventeen hundreds, thinking of things he had never seen. Draco had never seen the tiny, ice-cold streams that course through the heather. Miss Black would have found them a sweeter drink than any nectar around today. He had never seen the stark, bleak hills of the North, or the blue-tinged expanse of snowswept hills as far as the eye can see. He didn't know of the cruel sea that fiercely protected its little island gems, or the peat bogs that could swallow a man whole or provide the fuel for his fire. Draco had never smelt the sweet smell of burning peat or made soap from its fine brown ash. He didn't know that to wander abroad in such a place was to know your world and meet the spirits of the earth, sea, fire and air. He didn't know the blessing of a shallow cave when a cold wind blew.

Could it occur to him that in her travels Alice Jane Black met and spoke to families who tended their sheilings high in the hills – a few vegetables, a cow, a pig, a horse? Fertile land carefully nurtured in the summer, abandoned in the winter when the snow swept through the valleys, burying sheep and cattle and freezing the unwary. How could he understand that to these plain, hardworking Muggles she was the witch, the medicine woman who would care for their ills and advise them in their hardship? In time there came others to join her, before she grew old. Witches and wizards who wanted to learn what she had learned only through years of labouring on the soil, communing with the peasants, enduring patiently every weather or affliction life could throw at her.

No history book will reveal such information, nor did Draco know any more than the most basic details of her life. Yet he wants to emulate her? Climbing a hill is a start, a very good start.


	12. Montane Hope Chapter 12

Chapter 12 (of 16)

Snape didn't bother greeting Draco when he arrived in his office the next Monday evening. On the desk in front of him was a large bowl of water. As usual, Draco spent the first ten minutes of the lesson attempting to protect his own brain and attack Snape's. Snape insisted that this was a vital part of Subneorancia – and he was frighteningly skilled at it. Draco was relieved when they were finished and ready to talk about the bowl of water.

"Water is a dangerous substance, Draco. You know what it is – two elements of the air constantly combining and changing under natural forces. With a change in temperature there is ice, water or steam. Muggles know about this, and manipulate it in many ways. Lacking the ability to fly broomsticks," he sneered, "and finally realising that natural oil is not replaceable, they have designed modes of transport that use water for their energy.

"In your reading you will have come across spirits and creatures of all types associated with the elements. You will decide whether to believe in spirits or not – _except for the water ones_. A wizard who disrespects the spirits associated with water is likely to find himself forced to admit their existence before long." His eyes narrowed when Granger tapped on the door.

"Come in, Miss Granger, and be silent."

Granger sat quietly while Snape continued to talk about the water spirits. _As if there were any such things_. Still unconvinced, Draco had barely left the room ten minutes later when the shouting began. Granger and Snape. It was uncanny, hearing Snape raise his voice so fiercely. He wondered how she ever learned anything in her half hour when all they did was argue with each other every lesson.

_8888_

Even Draco was beginning to feel the tension as the exams drew closer. The weather was warm and sunny – perfect for practising Quidditch or lounging about the school grounds. Unfortunately the last Quidditch game for the year was over – Ravenclaw won – and every spare minute was spent revising. Draco had been briefly tempted when Lisa suggested moving their practise sessions outside, but declined firmly. The thought of a gaggle of first years hearing Lisa's music floating over the grounds and following it to the source was a bit too much. Especially after the Pansy incident earlier that term.

The start of the exams was almost a relief. Each day the nerves increased almost to breaking point, then you went in, did your stuff and when you came out it was over. The interims were important, but as long as you passed through into the next year they could be forgotten. The OWL and NEWT results were the ones that had to be recorded, and determined what sort of work a qualified wizard could do.

On the afternoon of the last exam Draco wandered into the grounds alone. It was hot, with a warm breeze blowing, and he wandered down to the water and threw stones into the lake. For a moment Snape's words about respecting the elements and creatures made him hesitate, but he decided to pretend that he hadn't learned that yet. First years had been throwing stones in the lake for years without coming to harm.

Draco's mother had owled him that morning, wishing him luck for his exams, _typical that she waits till they're almost over to wish me luck_, and informing him that Father had submitted another application for release. The letter had been carefully worded, but indicated that the Dark Lord was planning another major coup soon. 'Avoid Snape as much as possible. He's dangerous' the letter had concluded. That really puzzled Draco. His father and, he presumed, his mother, had always actively encouraged him to be friendly with Snape. It wasn't as if it was an easy task. And now he was suddenly being told to back off. _Why? Is Elddir right about him being in danger?_

He threw another stone, watching to see if the squid would rise for an instant. The Gryffindors were walking round the lake, also enjoying the release from their exams. In another week the school would be empty. Draco narrowed his eyes as they approached. The figure he had presumed to be Potter was actually Neville Longbottom. The trio stopped about ten feet away, looking out over the lake.

"Did you manage to scrape through then, Longbottom? It would be a shame to see you back next year."

Longbottom looked straight back at him. "I've returned every year to annoy you, Malfoy." Draco had expected Granger to answer for him. Bold Longbottom was a new concept.

"Neville didn't drop his wand during transfiguration," said Granger. "Unlike some people I could mention."

_Yeah – that was an embarrassment._ "It's so difficult to concentrate with all these Muggles and Squibs around," returned Draco.

"Puts you off does it?"

"Where's your usual hero? Don't tell me he's had to resit an exam."

"It's none of your business where Harry is. No doubt he's doing his best to avoid rodents like you. Come on." Granger turned away, Weasley and Longbottom following.

_Rodent? That's getting a bit snarky_.

Draco watched the three walk back to the castle, entirely missing the squid as it jumped clear of the water, waved all of its tentacles in the air then slid gracefully back under the surface without a ripple, till only one tentacle wearing a red witches hat topped with a large anemone of palest blue was visible. By the time Draco turned round, it too was gone.

_If Potter's not with them, he's not on the Quidditch pitch, nor the library…_ He wandered along the edge of the lake, musing.

_They don't wander about without him unless there's a good reason. Either they've finished him off during a hexing session – or he's gone. He'll be at that house they keep talking about, the one with the forty gallons of water._

_What did they want forty gallons of water for? Is that for Potter to do his washing?_

_8888_

The next day it seemed as though the whole school was abandoning Hogwarts grounds. Exams were over and it was their last chance to visit Hogsmeade before the holidays. Draco wanted to buy some Honeyduke's blackcurrant Zing Zappers, and some fake mice for his father – he wasn't certain that Lucius would see the joke, but at least they would keep him occupied. Blaise had got some last term. The more you let out the funnier they were, chasing their tails and each other. He spent ages watching them in Zonko's that morning. He'd noticed them before, but hadn't looked closely enough at the display to realise that you could buy animated toads and snakes, and even a spider as well. He bought three white mice, two black ones and a spider – it was the last animated spider in the shop. In The Three Broomsticks he let a couple of the mice out on the table, where they approached each other cautiously and sniffed noses before trundling off to explore the table top. He put them back in his pocket when he was nearly finished his butterbeer. In a few minutes he thought he might wander over to the Shrieking Shack on the off chance of meeting up with Blaise and Pansy.

As he was thinking about this Granger, Weasley and Longbottom walked past the Three Broomsticks. He left his mug sitting where it was, and sauntered out after them.

"Hey Granger," he called. "You've left someone behind. Where's your friend Potter?" Granger swung round, a furious look on her face.

"It's none of your business Malfoy. Go and poke your big nose somewhere else."

"Touchy, touchy," he sang, knowing that that would infuriate her still more. She stalked off, her back held stiff. Weasley and Longbottom were nearly running trying to keep up with her. Draco kept the threesome in sight. He lost sight of them as they went round a corner where the road ran alongside the forbidden forest, and started running, so that by the time he turned the corner himself he was less than a hundred yards behind them. The Shrieking Shack was ahead and a tall figure walking swiftly towards them. The three stopped. Draco looked at the man and felt his blood chill – his father had described the Dark Lord's appearance too often for him not to recognise him. He wanted to edge off in to the forest, but stood rooted to the spot, too scared to move.

The man stooped to speak to Granger. It looked as though he was asking directions. There was nothing outwardly evil about his manner. The voice which carried to Draco was cold, and unusually high-pitched.

"Miss Hermione Granger? I believe you have some information for me."

"No, Mr Riddle. You are mistaken. I do not." _The nerve of the girl!_ Draco watched her in admiration as the stranger straightened up – she didn't look anything like as scared as he felt. He trembled as the man's slit-like red eyes passed over him, holding his gaze for a second.

"Ah, Mr Draco Malfoy. Curious that you should be here. I know your father well." The words were faintly murmured, but, like Granger's, his voice was very clear.

Miss Hermione Granger – may I call you Hermione – I know that you have the information I want. Do not lie to me, girl."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Granger insisted. "Come on you two, we're going." She started to turn around, gesturing to Weasley and Longbottom to go with her, but You-Know-Who caught her wrist and pulled her round to face him.

"I don't think so, girl," he hissed. "You know where Harry Potter is. You are going to tell me."

With one swift movement he bent over and scooped Granger off her feet. She struggled and screamed but to no avail as he started carrying her towards the Shrieking Shack. Weasley and Longbottom looked at each other in consternation. Draco found his feet.

"What are you doing? Run. You can't let him take her away." He caught their arms and pulled them forwards, nearly knocking Weasley over.

"Quickly, come on!" He could hear Longbottom puffing and panting as they reached the shack. You-Know -Who had kicked the door open and was standing facing her, with his wand held high. The red eyes glowed fiercely in his white face. Hermione was crying.

"He's in Cornwall," she said, between sobs. "He's at Muddleworth's old house. We wanted him to be safe, we thought he'd be safe there." Voldemort raised his wand and muttered an incantation. Draco, who had barely had time to take in what Hermione was saying, saw her raise her hand as if to ward off the spells, and he covered his eyes. A split second later they exploded in a brilliant red and green flash, and a small voice in his head asked him why he was still standing there.

As soon as the lights had faded he rushed in, his eyes screwed up in pain as the after-image of the flash continued to obscure his vision. Hermione was lying on the floor, surely dead. No-one could withstand those spells. He pulled his wand out and turned on You-Know-Who. Neville was closing in on the Dark Lord from the other direction when the man vanished with a high, eerie laugh.

Draco's heart nearly stopped dead. Certain that the Dark Lord was gone, he turned round, intending to take Hermione's body back to the castle. She was sitting up looking at him. He did the only thing he thought he could do – apart from keeling over backwards in a faint – knelt down and hugged her. Weasley and Longbottom were staring. Granger gently pushed him back, stood up and dusted down her clothes.

"Come on Ron, Neville," she said in a commanding manner. "We need to go and tell Dumbledore the trap is sprung. Now! Don't worry about my wand Neville, there are other wands."

The four set off at a run, Neville trailing behind somewhat. With all the speed they could summon it was still fifteen minutes before they arrived at the front doors of the castle. Just inside the door McGonagall swept down on them.

"Is it time? Come quickly, I'll take you to Dumbledore." At a brisk walk she led them to the gargoyle, opened it and followed them up. Draco found himself standing outside looking at the inscrutable features of the closed gargoyle. No-one had said a word to him.

_8888_

The corridors were still empty of students and teachers. Draco had walked nearly every corridor in the castle and now turned towards the Astronomy tower. From the top of the tower he saw students arriving back in twos and threes. It was nearly an hour since the three Gryffindors and Professor McGonagall had entered Dumbledore's office. He'd tried to think things through, but he was still as confused as could be. Only one thing was clear to him – Potter was right now in that house by the coast, hiding, and Voldemort was probably already there. Granger must have been his secret-keeper. There was no sense in it – appointing a sixteen year old _girl _as secret-keeper. He could only suppose that Potter had insisted.

Why hadn't she died? He had seen the movement of her hand just before Voldemort cursed her (now that he'd seen him, Draco felt it silly not to call him by his real name), and had thought it an automatic fear reaction. Now he wasn't so sure. Knowing her abilities, she was probably well advanced in areas of magic he had no idea of – but what protection could she possibly invoke that would save her from _Voldemort_? The spells hadn't harmed her at all; they'd just bounced around the room as though she'd been surrounded by an impenetrable shield.

Most of the students were back and it was close on dinner time before he finally decided to go and find Professor Snape. _He probably won't be helpful, but it's worth a try…_

Draco knocked at the door of Snape's office, waiting for a reply. There was none. Finally he turned away, went back to the dormitory and tried to concentrate on some light reading. Not for the first time, he wished there was someone in Slytherin he could confide in. Pansy and Blaise would listen, but they couldn't stand Potter and his friends. No-one in Slytherin did like them, knowing the way the three of them continually broke all the rules and disrupted the school.

_8888_

At dinner the first thing he noticed was that Potter wasn't the only person absent from the Gryffindor table. Granger, Weasley and Longbottom weren't there. _Maybe she's in the hospital wing._ Draco made a mental note to find out. Then he noticed that the students at his table – all over the Hall in fact – were nudging each other and whispering. Pansy inclined her head towards the staff table, and he turned to look. Snape was nowhere to be seen. _Nor is…_

Tiny Professor Flitwick was sitting in Dumbledore's usual chair. _That means…_ Draco counted back in his head. Flitwick was the fourth most senior professor in the school. Neither McGonagall nor Dumbledore was at the table.

"Must be something big to keep them all away from dinner," said Blaise. Students all round them were saying similar things, speculating on what disaster might have happened.

"Especially Dumbledore," said Pansy. Dumbledore never missed a meal if he could help it. He was very appreciative of the house-elves cooking. Draco nudged her and pointed at the Gryffindor table. She followed his gaze. "Oh S-. They're fighting the Dark Lord again, aren't they?"

"I wouldn't be so flippant about it Pansy." Draco's voice was dangerous, unconsciously imitating Snape. "That is indeed what they are doing." He felt his face muscles contract into a frown as he remembered the events of the morning – the fear he'd never experienced before, the deadly spells and the rush of adrenaline that spurred him to action. None of his friends could hope to understand – no-one who hadn't seen it could. Pansy turned away hurriedly and started up a meaningless conversation with Blaise. Draco left his plate untouched and walked out, knowing that every eye in the school followed him as he left.

_8888_

At the hospital wing Madam Pomfrey was kind, but assured him that she had no charges at all at present. She even let him in to see for himself when he insisted. He walked back to the gargoyle outside Dumbledore's office. It seemed pointless trying to break in. He sat opposite the gargoyle for the best part of an hour, then quietly slipped out of the castle.

Hagrid was surprised – no astonished, or should that be absolutely astounded, to see him. Standing at the door, Draco felt quite confident he was going to be invited in. Hospitality was ingrained in Hagrid's nature; and big oaf he might be, but he was the only person left who knew Potter and Granger well. Fangs, who was lying by the fire, lifted his head, sniffed the air and went back to sleep.

"Come in Draco. You'll have a cup o' tea, won' yeh? An' how d'ye fancy some rock cakes, home-made." He took a four-pint mug out of a cupboard and laid it on the table next to the teapot as Draco sat down. "Ah, there's some smaller mugs here – look, you have Hermione's, she won' mind."

"Professor Flitwick's acting as headmaster now," Draco burst out. Hagrid was still opening cupboards trying to find things.

"Came to see me himsel'," nodded Hagrid. "Nice fellow, Flitwick. No' got Dumbledore's talent though. We'll be glad when he's back."

"You know what's going on, don't you?"

Hagrid stopped smiling. "Now that's more than I can say, Draco. An' why d'ye wan' ter know. Isn't your Dad…?"

"I won't tell my Father this. I was with them today when Voldemort found them. He knows where Harry is."

"Voldemort found them!" Hagrid had straightened up. "What was Voldemort doing here?" Draco winced. Hagrid was nearly ten feet tall and his voice right now matched his size. He put a rock cake down in front of Draco and lowered his voice. "Yeh'd better tell me about this. Are they okay?"

Draco told him everything he knew. Hagrid's eyes were piercingly keen; for once it was impossible to keep thinking of him as a big oaf. _Why, he might even be in on their plans. He's certainly friendly with Potter and Granger._ Hagrid laid his big head on the table when he'd finished. Draco sipped the strong tea, uncertain whether he'd done any good coming here. Perhaps he knew nothing anyway. He stared at the top of Hagrid's bushy head, wondering what else he could have done. It was several minutes before the half-giant – as Draco knew he was - sat up again. If Draco hadn't been so confused, he might have been amused at the tears beginning to overflow down Hagrid's red cheeks.

"Here." Hagrid swallowed violently and blew his nose. "Have some toffee."

"Now by righ'," he continued, round about the time Draco realised that his teeth were firmly stuck together and he couldn't answer, "I shouldn' tell yeh anything at all. 'Specially your Dad being wha' he is an' all. But yeh'll jus' worry if I don'."

Draco inclined his head. Hagrid looked sharply at him again, as though he knew more about Draco than he was willing to say.

"First of all, yeh're righ' abou' a few things. Harry," he blew his nose again, "is in tha' house, he is protected by the Fidelius charm and Hermione is his secret keeper." Hagrid thumped the table alarmingly. "If I had had my way – which I didn'… an' poor Molly Weasley in tears an' shouting at Dumbledore as she was… But Dumbledore – he's a good man yeh know. I think he wanted ter give them the chance. Wi' those three anyhow – yeh jus' canna stop them sometimes."

Fangs started whining when Hagrid thumped the table, till Draco threw him a toffee. He mopped up the tears again with a handkerchief that looked like a pillowcase, and continued.

"So the plan wen' ahead. An' not content wi' nearly killin' himself last term, Harry moved in on Thursday. You-Know-Who's got spies all over the place, it were only a matter of time till he foun' Harry weren' at Hogwarts and wen' after him. So it's up to him now. The others have gone to help, but it'll jus' be him and Voldemort, the way he wanted it."

Hagrid had crashed his head on the table again by the time Draco found his voice.

"But isn't there anything we can do to help? Voldemort could kill them!" Hagrid was howling now and Fangs made a rather pathetic attempt to join in with his teeth still stuck together.

Eventually he stood up and went out to wash his face at the water barrel. "Look Draco," he said when he came back, "there's no decen' wizard in the country would le' them – bu' Harry… and Dumbledore said le' him, and then Hermione offered to be secret keeper… an' they're on'y kids. Here, we'd better get you back up to the castle. Don' you worry abou' a thing."

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_Don't worry about a thing?_ Draco felt that knowing a little made things far worse. So Potter had willingly gone in as bait. And worse, he'd persuaded Hermione Granger to get involved as well. He never knew how he got through the next days. Dumbledore's office was being well used – not by Flitwick, but by Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood. Draco couldn't believe his eyes when he first saw Ginny open the gargoyle, then heard Luna singing to her from upstairs. He had been patrolling the corridors at the time, late in the evening. All the prefects were assisting with the running of the school. With three teachers gone he'd even supervised some study time which they would normally have covered – though he was so distracted he was sure he'd made an appalling job of it. Pansy was looking more pale and tired every day as she carried her share of the prefect duties.

Next time he walked down that corridor an owl swooped over his head, carrying a message. It perched on a torch until Ginny Weasley's voice called to the gargoyle to open and let it in. The following day Kingsley Shacklebolt, an auror he recognised from when he'd accompanied his Dad to the Ministry, said 'good day' to him in the same corridor. He stopped to talk for a few minutes but said nothing of his errand. He too went up to Dumbledore's office. Watching the gargoyle close once more after he had passed through, Draco turned round and walked back down to the Entrance Hall. Standing on the steps out side the castle, he saw that the sun was shining and students everywhere were walking, playing, or lying in it. But he couldn't feel it. He turned back inside to wait for darkness, and news.


	13. Montane Hope Chapter 13

Chapter 13 (of 16)

On Monday morning Draco received a letter at breakfast which he took absent-mindedly, waving the owl away. It was from his Mother. He slit it open, expecting it to be a note about some small thing that had happened at home.

_Darling Draco,_

_Your father is going to be released today. I will go to Azkaban to meet him at lunchtime. We intend to travel for a little while, so please do not be concerned if you don't hear from us. As usual we will meet you on platform 9 ¾ on the first day of your holidays. It will make things much easier if you arrive on the platform awake and in one piece. Whatever you do, do not get involved with Harry Potter and his friends. Keep a low profile, it is rumoured that the Dark Lord is turning his attention to any that he thinks may have betrayed him now or in the past._

_Send a reply back with the owl. I expect you to assure me that you will not associate yourself with Harry Potter or any of his friends, nor do anything to draw attention._

_Your ever loving mother._

He stared at it, then stuffed it in his pocket. After breakfast he went up to the owlery. It had taken all of his concentration while he was eating to think of a diplomatic reply. How could he promise not to get involved if an opportunity came up to do so? Waiting and wondering was killing him more effectively than even Voldemort could.

_Dear Mother,_

_I received your note this morning – unfortunately I had already sent the owl away before reading it. I have no desire to draw attention to myself, and will naturally do everything I can to avert mishap._

_Give my love to Father,_

_Yours ever,_

_Draco_

Draco was under no illusions about why they wanted to travel. Students from both sides of the Voldemort/Dumbledore divide thought the Malfoys were traitors. Some were more than happy to tell him so. Apparently his parents had swapped sides, claiming that Voldemort was controlling them against their will, almost before the Dark Lord was vanquished. Draco wasn't too surprised that his father's support for the returned Voldemort had been only nominal. Once he wouldn't have believed it, but over the past year he had learned far more about his father's motives than he thought he ever wanted to know. He was no longer a child who could be fooled, blind to the obvious. But he was still a Malfoy, and before long a decision would have to be made one way or the other. Voldemort? Or Dumbledore? Lucius was clearly choosing the safest way. Running and hiding.

Two years ago Draco would have thoroughly approved. Now he was beginning to think that loyalty and fairness had something going for it – at least, while Granger was in danger he felt an obligation to do what ever needed to be done to get her out of it.

He met up with Lisa on Sunday and cancelled the practise times they had arranged for the next couple of days, claiming to be too busy with his prefect duties. It had been a rather… awkward… encounter, to say the least. He'd expected her to say something about practising for the end-of-term show, but instead she had taken one look at him and told him not to waste time worrying about Granger, she wasn't worth it. Her face was solemn, for once, as she said, "fancy spells aren't everything and looks aren't everything and when you find out who your friends really are – well, I'll still be here anyway."

On Monday afternoon Draco was speaking to two of the ghosts just outside the Great Hall when a girl rushed up and hugged him, knocking over a suit of armour with a huge crash.

"Draco! Draco Malfoy! Wotcher cousin? – oh, I'm so sorry we couldn't talk to you before, you must have been worried."

"You're my cousin?" Draco looked at her. She was slightly smaller than him, good looking in a rather aristocratic way with short, curly black hair. She hadn't washed her face before hugging him – there were streaks of blood across it and her robes were torn across an obviously injured shoulder. "Who did that?" he started to say, as she shifted the robes slightly to cover up the wound, and then he saw a person standing behind her, a man with a big chunk missing from his nose. He froze. Mad-Eye Moody limped forward, holding his hand out.

The girl who was his cousin tried to pick the suit of armour up while Moody spoke to him, but first the helmet fell off and then it toppled over in the other direction.

"Never mind that," said Draco when the noise had died away. "Filch'll sort it out." He looked warily at Moody. The man seemed friendly enough, but he'd never quite forgotten being turned into a ferret in front of Potter and Weasley.

"C'mon," said Moody, rolling his eye back into his head. He turned round sharply – Draco had thought he was going to jump out of his skin when the suit of armour had been dropped a second time. He was a lot more cautious about things than he'd been when Draco last knew him. Satisfied that there was nothing more dangerous than a couple of students in the entrance hall, he led the way to Dumbledore's office. The girl put two fingers in her mouth and whistled loudly. "Don't do that," said Moody, when he started to breathe again. The gargoyle sprang open. Draco thought at first that the whistle was a new password, but then realised that the noise had simply been to alert Ginny Weasley.

Ginny was sitting behind the desk with books and papers all around her. She looked more tired even than Pansy, but smiled warmly at Draco's cousin, then scowled at Draco.

"Oh, I'm sorry Draco," his cousin said. "Whatever was I thinking of? I'm Nymphadora Tonks – call me Tonks – Andromeda's daughter."

Draco looked blank for a moment. _Who is Andromeda?_ Then he suddenly remembered that he'd seen Nymphadora before. "You were in the house with Potter and Granger. After the phoenix saved them." He turned to look at the phoenix, sleeping with its head tucked under its wing. Tonks looked puzzled, Ginny even more so.

"Are you a metamorphmagus? You had purple hair."

"Yeah." She looked even more puzzled, and Ginny was openly staring. Moody cleared his throat.

"Er, Yeah," said Ginny, glancing at the papers on the desk. "We'd better get down to business." She sounded quite collected. Draco was sure he wouldn't be at all relaxed if he were the one sitting in Dumbledore's chair, ordering adults about. He was looking at Ginny when Luna glided to his side, really startling him. He hadn't seen her sitting in the corner.

"First of all," she said, sifting papers, "I received a note this morning that Lupin was waylaid by Death Eaters in Yorkshire. He dispatched Mundungus to continue with the message, and managed to get away but he will unfortunately be out of the action for the next few days. Oh, and Nott and MacNair are both in St Mungo's Hospital. Apparently they didn't know he was a werewolf.

"I have here a note from Dumbledore. _'Our worst enemy tries with all his might to make us greater. Our trials of misfortune today will be our wisdom and hope tomorrow.'_

"From Harry, Hermione, Ron and Neville, nothing."

"That's bad," said Moody, breaking the silence. "Very bad." No-one else spoke. Finally Tonks asked, "What about Molly and Arthur?"

"Holding the fort. They'd be on the scene in an instant if we gave the word, but we've got to know more."

"And Malfoy?" asked Moody.

"Lucius? Vanished, what did you…"

"No, no, Draco here."

"I honestly don't know," said Ginny. "Dumbledore left a message to be opened when Fawkes got back. I opened it last night. It is only one sentence, with instructions to read it out to Draco Malfoy, in the next meeting of members of the Order."

She stood up and looked at Draco, who was doing his best to look as though he knew what was going on.

"'_Never ask a thing without being able to help all you are able.'_"

Moody looked stunned. "Well. There's your challenge, boy."

Relief washed over Draco. He was going to be allowed to help. He was going to do something. Theatrically he stood up, crossed his hands over his heart and bowed.

"When can I go? What do you want me to do?" Somehow he found the fact that he was saying this to Ginny Weasley quite humorous.

"Hang about boy. You'd better know what's going on first." Moody sounded quite amused. "I'd never have thought – being who your parents are you know."

"No. _I_ would never have thought." Ginny Weasley was scowling. She tossed her hair back and sat down again, leaning over to whisper to something beside the desk. Draco heard the gargoyle down below jump aside.

"Kingsley coming up," said Moody, rolling his eye back to look through the door. Kingsley arrived a few seconds later, an overcoat over his arm.

"Ah, Draco Malfoy. I'm sorry we couldn't talk properly before. Have you told him anything yet?" he asked, looking round at the group.

"Not a thing," said Luna. "He's promised to fight the hump-backed philatery, or the spume-feathered mallock if it comes to that, but no-one's told him anything."

Kingsley sat down. "I might as well start. I don't have much news, but I'll come to it in the course of things. In fact, some of you may not know that Draco was with Hermione, Ron and Neville when Voldemort attacked her. He gallantly attempted to save her – which, Hermione being who she is, probably doesn't appreciate."

It was clear from Ginny's stunned face that she hadn't known that. Luna turned her dreamy eyes on Draco as if seeing him for the first time.

"All went as planned. Draco, you may not have realised that as members of the Order of the Phoenix, some wizards can be extremely foolhardy. Especially when they are underaged, very limited in what they can legally do…"

"Not that that makes any difference to them," Moody growled.

"Yes. Anyway, a certain wizard volunteered himself as bait, knowing that if he attracted his fish he would probably not live to tell the tale. Naturally everyone with any sense said no."

"Except Dumbledore," cut in Ginny.

"Albus Dumbledore being very well respected as he is, succeeded in talking everyone round – except Molly Weasley. Molly's vote would have been enough to stop the plan going ahead if the boy hadn't taken matters into his own hands. By the time anyone who might have stopped him realised what was going on, the three of them…" Ginny was blushing, and Draco looked sharply at her, amending that in his mind to, the four of them. "…had a house organised and had tipped off one or two people who they knew would relay the message back to the Dark Lord himself. In the face of such obstinacy, Albus Dumbledore gave them, and Neville Longbottom permission to spend a weekend there with members of the Order cleaning it up and setting such spells as were needed for their protection."

"A move which nearly resulted in the tragic death of the two main players," Moody interrupted.

"Fortunately," Kingsley paused and looked directly at Draco. Draco felt his skin glowing pink as he blushed. "Fortunately such tragedy was averted. Four days ago young Harry was removed to the house to await Voldemort's arrival. The fish snatched at the bait far quicker than we had expected, capturing Hermione down in the village early on Saturday afternoon. She played her part and then returned directly to warn Professor Dumbledore. Although the Order was gathered and in position within forty minutes of Voldemort disapparating from Hogsmeade, we suspect that he may have spent some time alone with Harry Potter before the other children arrived."

Here Kingsley paused, swallowing hard. "They'll be okay," said Tonks reassuringly. "They can all handle themselves." Ginny looked furious – annoyed at not being there with them, Draco suspected. He couldn't believe it himself. He didn't think much of Dumbledore, but he hadn't thought he was so silly as to send three 16 yr old wizards and a witch – Neville Longbottom being one of them – to face up to Voldemort on their own. _What are all these other people doing? Where are Snape and McGonagall? It's no wonder they need my help._

_How can I possibly be of help?_ His own parents were too scared to face up to Voldemort, and they were his supposed followers.

"That's about it," said Kingsley. "I've been to the observation point. In two days I've seen nothing, and Severus and Minerva have not seen any action either. Albus Dumbledore entered the house yesterday and found it completely empty. Minerva is beside herself with worry. So far there has been no word from any of the four. Interestingly, Voldemort seems to have vanished also. He is not in any of his usual lairs and his closest followers appear quite unaware of his whereabouts."

Ginny put her head on the table. Moody, Tonks and Kingsley were talking so fast that Draco couldn't hope to understand what they were on about. In a few minutes they had apparently decided their course of action. Moody beckoned Draco to join him. Draco hesitated just a second, remembering the ferret, then stuck his chest out and carried his head high. _If anyone's going to hurt you today_, he realised, _it'll be Voldemort, not Mad-Eye Moody_.

"I'm sorry Ginny and Luna," said Kingsley. "You'll have to hold the fort. As soon as Lupin's better we'll send him to relieve you – bit unfortunate his being caught just before the full moon like that." Ginny had her head up now, smiling bravely. She looked exhausted.

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Draco could just make out the shape of a tree and the outline of the marker. He reached up to touch it, feeling a triangle shape. _Still on the path then. _He was reluctant to get his wand out in the gathering dark, knowing that the faint light would spoil his night vision. He walked on, seeing black lines against the deep blue sky, vague grey shapes where the undergrowth was thick at the side of the path. It was no longer possible to see the path, or the tree roots that crossed it. He took shorter steps, placing each foot carefully in the knowledge that if he tried to stand lengthways on a root his foot would slide.

It was almost pitch black when Draco stepped over a tree root and hit the ground hard with his right foot – he'd stepped over an eight-inch drop. Within a few steps he did it again. Stopping, he unstrapped his wand and held it up. _Lumos_. It glimmered faintly and then faded. He tried again, to no effect. Draco walked on. The brief flash of light had shown him that the path was straight and level for the next few metres.

Ten minutes later it was impossible to see more than occasional patches of sky. Draco had no idea how long it was going to take to walk out. Unaccountably, his wand was behaving like a piece of wood.

_You're still on the path. Listen to your feet._ He shortened his steps, placing each foot carefully. _You'll trip over the undergrowth – or hear leaf litter rustle if you leave the path._ The path was firm, free of debris. Occasionally Draco walked through a soft part, where the mud stood up in ridges and squelched underfoot. He welcomed these patches, knowing that the mud had been formed by hundreds of Muggle tramping boots over the previous weeks and months. They meant that he was still on the track.

_This is easy. My feet are self-guiding – or something is guiding them_. Each time Draco nearly stood lengthwise on a root he felt it and moved his foot a couple of inches onto firm ground. The path twisted and turned and he followed it. _The spirits of the forest are helping. Or maybe I'm super-intuitive._ He couldn't understand how he followed the bends of the path; he just knew that he did.

Strapping his wand back in place, Draco walked on. At one stage he nearly stumbled into a tangle of brush. He stopped; backtracked till he was sure he was on the path, then turned and walked forward again. Again he turned towards the brush, touching it with his fingertips. _I did take the right turn, I was just a little close to the edge of the path._ Twice more in the next minutes he backtracked, the first time because of some dry leaves lying on the path, the second because some small branches had fallen across it. Each time he discovered he hadn't gone wrong at all.

The bush was a dark brooding presence, but not an unpleasant one. Despite the frost that morning, the air was still warm. Draco walked with his arms outstretched. The trees had become further spaced, taller. Neither undergrowth nor leaf litter was there to guide him now and for five minutes there had been no sign to indicate that he was still on the path – apart from the fact that the ground was still firm and he hadn't walked into a tree yet_. If I know for sure that I've come off the path I'll have to stop and wait till morning. There's no way I'd find it again without wand light._ The hunger that had plagued him most of the day had ceased, replaced by a heightened awareness and a deep sense of calm.

_I'm still on the path. I'd surely have walked into a tree by now if I wasn't._ Draco's right arm thumped soundly into a flat board. _What's that? It's not a tree_. He stopped and felt it. It was the marker for the beginning of the track. Cautiously he eased forward, feeling the ground disappear under his right toe. He lowered himself down that step, and then the next. _If I hadn't hit that board I'd have walked straight over these steps without realising_. Draco inched forward. The path to the car park should be a right turn, but he was still in deep bush. In places the new path consisted of wood planks raised several feet off the ground – not the sort of thing he wanted to fall off.

A few paces further on he saw clear starry sky ahead. He slid down a muddy bank onto short open grass and stopped, finding himself right next to the road he had driven on that morning. Before turning towards the car park, Draco directed his thoughts back to the bush. Acknowledging the spirits, he remembered the peace and beauty of the bush clad slopes, and thanked the earth and air powers for guiding him out. He'd been walking for an hour in darkness.

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"Draco! We were so worried. Where were you?"

Narcissa Malfoy hugged Draco so tight he couldn't breathe. The warm calm he'd felt in the wood was still with him, and he smiled a very un-Draco-like smile.

"I'm fine Mother. I just went for a walk."

"You must be hungry. We saved some dinner for you," said Dylan's mother as soon as they went inside. Draco sat by the fire and ate one of the nicest meals he'd ever tasted – chicken and lentil casserole with leek, celery, parsnip and broccoli, followed by a newly made fruit salad (kiwifruit, sweet orange, apple, grape, persimmon and banana) with fresh unpasteurised cream.


	14. Montane Hope Chapter 14

Chapter 14 (of 16)

Draco would have fallen to the ground when they landed if Moody and Tonks hadn't been holding him so tight. Portkey certainly wasn't his favourite way to travel. He looked around, finding himself in a circular room with windows all round and a huge metal and plastic contraption in the middle. Far below the waves crashed relentlessly over rocks.

Albus Dumbledore was standing in the middle of the room, running his hands over the lighthouse light and explaining how it worked to Severus Snape. Professor McGonagall was apparently listening also, but her eyes continually strayed towards a house that stood crazily at the top of one of the cliffs. It looked as though it might fall into the sea at any moment.

"Alastor, come and see this. One of the wonders of Muggle invention." Alastor Moody stumped over to him.

"Very nice, Albus. Perhaps you could attend to Tonks. She wouldn't stop at the school." No-one seemed to notice Draco's presence. He felt that he was being pushed to the side again, as he had been after Voldemort had appeared in the village. Even Snape wasn't bothering to look at him. Professor Dumbledore leaned over Tonks, moving the material gently away from her shoulder.

"Something bit you. What was it?"

"It's alright, really, it's nothing,' said Tonks, trying to pull the torn robe back over it.

"Nymphadora Tonks, that is a serious injury. Let Albus look at it – at once. You should have had it seen to at Hogwarts."

To Draco's surprise, Professor McGonagall winked at Snape after she had said this. Tonks had given her a pleading look, but then submitted quietly as Dumbledore ran his wand over the injury.

"Only way to deal with that sort," whispered McGonagall. "They think it's too girlish to give in to illness or pain otherwise." Draco was sure Tonks must have heard.

"Dog bite," said Moody. "She's too embarrassed to admit it was a common or garden terrier."

"How did it go?"

"No problem – and no Voldemort. Some of the Death Eaters are getting worried. We checked some of the caves further down the coast – that's where Tonks got her injury – but it's such a labyrinth we didn't make much progress. There's not even any way of being sure that they connect with the ones under the house."

"Do we know yet if they've gone down there?" asked Tonks. Albus nodded. He was finished treating the bite.

"The trapdoor is apparently untouched. I wondered myself when I saw that, although I really didn't think they'd all disappear into thin air. Voldemort is not quite that clever. No, the spells have been lifted and replaced. Only one of the students has the ability to replace those spells. That would suggest that Miss Granger was left behind in the house."

"Does she have a wand?" asked Draco. Snape and McGonagall turned to look at him as if they had only just realised he was there.

"No Mr Malfoy," said Dumbledore. "She does not. Calm down Minerva. If any student can cope with losing her wand, Hermione Granger can."

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**Harry Potter behind the scenes**

If he was going to die, he hoped it would be quick.

Harry was sitting in a squashy armchair beside the fire. A plate of biscuits sat on the arm of the chair and 'Flying with the Cannons' had been abandoned face down on his lap. He looked at the clock and yawned. There was nothing to do here but eat, read and sleep. After nearly two days of it he was already fed up.

A loud thud startled him. Was that someone from the Order? It was surely far too soon for it to be the person he was waiting for. He walked downstairs with his wand out and checked the Muggle peep-hole Moody had insisted on installing. The door was protected with Muggle locks and chains, but no spells. Lazily moving the little flap aside, Harry looked through, directly into Voldemort's eye. He staggered back. The weeks of preparation couldn't help him now. _You're going to die like your parents Harry._ He replied to his own thought. _I'm ready. If I have to go I will go, and I'll take him with me. _

He slipped into the little room just beside the front door. The windows had been blacked and sealed from the inside so that no-one could see in. His heart pounded as he waited, listening to the creaks and snaps as Voldemort snapped the locks and chains, one by one, that closed the outside door.

He heard it swing open, creaking on its hinges. For one long heartbeat Harry waited, facing the door of the room. He was ready when Voldemort arrived.

_8888_

Harry barely breathed, clutching the second wand in his hand. It's always the simplest spells that work best, he knew. Voldemort sat up, fury in his face.

"We meet again Harry Potter. You never learn, do you?" He stretched his hand out and Harry felt the Dark Lord's wand twitch in his hand. It grew hot as he held it. Deliberately he put his own wand in his pocket, taking hold of Voldemort's with both hands. He brought it down across his knee as Voldemort dived across the room, wrapping his long thin arms around Harry's legs. Harry was knocked backwards, but his hands were still free and he threw the snapped wand across the room before struggling until he succeeded in getting one leg loose and stamping on Voldemort's hand. He was pleased to hear a sharp intake of breath – evidently the Dark Lord was not immune to pain.

The rage built up in him like a furnace, as he aimed a nasty kick at Voldemort's head, stood on the other hand, then stumbled across the room, clutching at his wand which was, thankfully, still in his pocket. The _Expelliarmus_ spell had worked better than he'd hoped, but he knew he couldn't relax now.

"Are you going to kill me Harry?" Voldemort asked mockingly. Harry didn't answer. _Any minute now…_ Voldemort gasped as 40 gallons of water, cascaded over him, flowing over the floor to Harry's feet. Recovering; he glanced up at the trapdoor that had sprung open overhead.

"Very clever Harry. Much more original than just killing." Harry backed towards the door, still covering Voldemort with his wand. He knew he'd missed his moment. He could only hope to successfully distract him again, and stun him while he was still in control of the situation. Hermione had warned him of the risks associated with luring Voldemort to this house.

Indeed, Voldemort looked amused, but he didn't break eye-contact as he moved towards Harry, effortlessly side-stepping the clouds of stinging thorns that pelted out of the walls in waves.

"You're good at tricks Harry. Most unfortunate you can't hide them. No-one can lie to the Dark…"

_**Kaboom.**_

Voldemort jumped forward, followed by a thick spume of smoke. Harry continued backing, he was now out of the room and nearly at the stairs.

"Get out of my house Voldemort," said Harry, finally finding his voice. "You're foul, you're evil. You deserve to die."

"_My_ house, Harry," said Voldemort. "Part of my birthright. One of us will die Harry. It may not be the one that is most deserving. Life can be that way – as you would surely find out if you lived long enough."

The door Voldemort was standing next to fell off its hinges, rapping him sharply on the head. A Dementor charged out. Harry stood perfectly still; he could feel the air going cold. His hands felt clammy with fear. Voldemort recovered rapidly – rapidly enough to trigger an old memory in Harry's mind, a simple spell. _What was it?_ With a thin-lipped smile he ordered the Dementor to "show young Harry what fear is." The Dementor turned, as if seeing Voldemort for the first time, and changed with a loud crack into – Harry Potter. Harry watched aghast. He'd expected the Boggart to change into Dumbledore. The Boggart/Harry raised his wand arm and whispered an incantation. Harry strained his ears to hear. He was sure the spell didn't resemble any of the dark curses he knew.

Voldemort had sunk to his knees, apparently dizzy again. Harry slipped off unobtrusively, leaving the Boggart and Voldemort facing each other at the foot of the stairs. With no wand Voldemort was incapable of preventing the Boggart from doing anything it wanted. He wandered into the kitchen, looking out of the window at the waves crashing below. The trapdoor was just behind him, leading to the dark tunnels he had begun to explore with Hermione back in the spring. There was no noise from the hall, and he wondered how long it would be before Voldemort realised that the real Harry wasn't in sight and came after him. Turning back to face the door, he focused on the plaque stuck to the door, above the 1979 calendar. Artemisia. He repeated the word, finding it calmed him. Dumbledore had told him to relax as much as possible – he'd been wondering ever since if Dumbledore had ever tried to do anything _hard_. Surely he wouldn't throw such advice around so flippantly if he had.

Artemisia.

Hours later – but probably only fifteen minutes – Harry was startled with a loud scream. _What took them so long? _he wondered He returned to the hallway in time to see Hermione rush up to the Boggart and hug it – and closed his eyes in horror as she screamed again. He didn't see what the Boggart had turned into before it cracked loudly and advanced on Ron – in the form of something very similar to Aragog. Ron charged at the monster, wand out so that it backtracked hurriedly. It fled past Harry, who slammed the door shut behind it. "Thanks Ron," he said. Ron didn't hear him though, he was busy throwing up. Voldemort appeared to have fainted.

Neville pulled Ron by the arm, and they stepped gingerly round Voldemort. "Come on," called Hermione, leading the way upstairs.

"What are you doing Hermione?" asked Harry. "Are we supposed to just leave him lying on the floor?"

"Yes Harry. The Order of the Phoenix will deal with him when they come."

"We _are_ the Order of the Phoenix, Hermione."

"Harry, you can't use a killing spell. You just about have to be in Slytherin House to even perform an illegal curse."

"And whatever he did, Harry," said Neville, "You're not going to Azkaban for his sake."

'THAT MAN KILLED MY PARENTS. WHY SHOULDN'T…" Harry's voice trailed away as he realised he was shouting again. He looked at Neville, seeing the pain in his friend's eyes. "You're right, Neville. We'll let Dumbledore deal with him."

"Er… shouldn't we…" Before Ron could suggest that they really ought to properly stun and secure their captive and conjure the pre-arranged signal, the door crashed open.

_8888_

"Children. So nice that you all came. Miss Granger, I believe we have met before, most useful you were. Indeed," he folded his arms and leaned against the door. "You are very right Mr Weasley. If your companions had a little more, shall we say, intuitiveness, I might have been in trouble indeed."

Hermione glared at him.

"Most embarrassing, isn't it Miss Granger. Not like the cleverest witch in Hogwarts to overlook a little thing like that." He stepped forward.

"You stay away from me," she hissed, backing against the wall.

"I'm frankly, rather surprised to see you here," he said, continuing to advance on her, though Harry noticed that Voldemort wasn't letting him out of his sight. He seemed barely aware of the others. Harry nodded at Ron, and Ron pointed his wand at the ceiling. Another trapdoor opened, showering Voldemort with woolly pompoms. Voldemort swept them off, turning back to Harry. "I expected better from you, Harry. The Boy-Who-Lived and the cleverest witch this century, and you try to smother Lord Voldemort with _pompoms_."

Harry held his gaze, while behind his back Hermione nodded to Neville. A bludger squeezed its way painfully out of Neville's wand, catching Voldemort in the back and knocking him over. Harry ducked. Ron jumped to the side. "Call it back," hissed Hermione, flattening herself to the floor. Voldemort rolled over, just missing it as it tried to smash his back again. Harry raised his wand, slowing the bludger down as it headed for Neville, then Hermione ran forward and grabbed his wand. With the bludger safely back inside the wand Neville was holding they started breathing again. Voldemort stood up, holding his back. Harry found he got a perverse pleasure from watching his enemy suffer, something Voldemort was no doubt aware of.

"STUN," roared Harry. 'Never mind us, stun him."

He already had his wand out, and watched the three spells streak towards their intended victim, but Voldemort threw himself to the floor. Neville aimed another stunner in his direction, which he rolled over to avoid.

_Now who's the one playing hide and seek_. Harry might have laughed if he hadn't been so scared.

_8888_

That second's inattention, he realised immediately, was dangerous. The Dark Lord took advantage of the lull in action to suddenly lunge at Neville. Neville stepped back in alarm, avoiding the out-stretched hand but dropping his wand in haste. Immediately he stooped to grab it as Harry, horrified, raised his own wand to summon it. Both were too slow. Voldemort used the wand to cast a spell that threw Neville painfully into the wall, disarmed Ron with another spell and physically grabbed Ron. Harry hesitated a second too long, reluctant to hex Voldemort in case he hit Ron instead. Holding Ron and Neville's wands in one hand, Voldemort started dragging Ron downstairs. Harry raced after them, helplessly watching as Ron struggled but failed to break the older man's grip. Neville and Hermione, both wandless, hesitated a second before following. The three of them burst into the kitchen in time to see a Boggart/Harry trip through the open trapdoor and down the steps. Harry plunged into darkness after them, gripping his wand tightly. As the last glimmer of light vanished, he concentrated on the scraping sounds ahead, stumbling down the steps as soundlessly as he could.

_88888888_

Neville jumped back from the trapdoor in alarm as it slammed shut. Time froze for an instant as he caught his breath and Hermione stopped, looking at the perfectly sanded floor where the trapdoor had been a moment ago. It seemed, as so often her life did, as if she had been once again caught in a storybook, an actress on a stage lit by an un-natural light, caught up in events that couldn't be real. She saw Neville kneel, passing his hands across the floorboards, his form outlined in a glowing silhouette by the afternoon sun shining though the window. His voice jolted her back to reality.

"I don't know how to open it Hermione. It's gone. They've gone."

"I don't have my wand." She felt like stamping her foot in frustration. Instead she ran back to check the hall and the next room, carefully avoiding the traps that she knew were there. Before long she found what she was looking for – but she nearly cried when she realised that the wand was irreparably broken. Still, there was a portion of undamaged phoenix feather poking from one of the fragments and this she took, discarding the other bits as the useless pieces of wood they were.

She returned to the place where the trapdoor had been, holding the wand fragment with both hands as she muttered every 'opening' spell, and every derivative of them she could think of. Ten minutes later Neville was still sitting there, his arms around his knees as she whispered in exasperation over the smooth floor.

"The thing's broken! It's hopeless."

"Try again," Neville urged. "We've got to get to them."

Hermione took a deep breath. "_Artemisia_." She visualised the crashing waves below, the dark, labyrinthine tunnels. "_Artemisia._"

"How did you do that?" Neville asked, as a dark, jigsawing gap began to widen in the floor between them.

"A moment of connection," Hermione said, hurrying forwards.

"A what?" His voice echoed off the walls surrounding them. There were no steps, just a gentle slope.

"Never mind," Hermione said. "This isn't the place that was here before. Grab my hand, we can't get separated."

"Harry! Ron!" The shout bounced around them, making Hermione wince. He couldn't know, of course.

"Neville. Don't make any more noise. I don't know where we are, or what's down here." She heard a crash behind them, and jumped again. It had to be the sea, she told herself, the waves crashing on the rocks below. But she knew it wasn't. The trapdoor had shut again. There was no way back.


	15. Montane Hope Chapter 15

**Chapter 15 (of 16)**

"Do you know where we are?" Neville asked, just as the silence started to become oppressive. Not that it was silence – the crashing of waves over rocks was ever-present and some-where ahead Hermione could hear a regular pinging noise, as if a drop of water were falling off the wall into a puddle below.

"I'm not sure," she replied. "I don't know what sort of magic made the trapdoor move. But I don't think it moved far – we're still in the same general area."

She expected Neville to ask why she thought that, but he didn't. She couldn't have answered logically, it was just an intuitive awareness. Like the impression that using the name Artemisia might be effective. This had been happening more and more recently, and she wasn't sure that she liked it.

The floor continued to slope down, which she took as a good sign, although she felt Neville tense as the noise of the crashing waves became closer. She was about to tell him that the cave they were trying to get to was under the sea when he stumbled heavily against the wall, threw a hand out for balance and yelped.

"G-give's a light," he stammered. Hermione was already gripping the wand again, concentrating hard on the simple spell. The scene she saw when she opened her eyes and let them adjust to the dim glow was not a pleasant one.

"Is he… it alright," Neville asked, carefully replacing the bony hand he had unintentionally grabbed when he tripped over the skeleton's legs.

"He won't mind," Hermione said, raising the glowing wand to look around. "It must be the same one… yes, there's the cross… follow me Neville, we're not far from the lower cave." She set off at a brisk walk, trying to remember the route from the time she and Harry had explored the tunnels months ago. A grasping fear settled on her as she recalled their adventures, and she determinedly shook it off. She really did not like the increased awareness studying Subneorancia had begun to induce, however useful it was.

"Aren't there Dementors down here?" Neville asked. She stopped for a moment, wishing she could speak of them as easily as he could. Wishing that they were still no more than an intellectual exercise.

"Not in this part of the caves, no," she said. "We sealed off this section. Once we get out, we may find some." _If we get out_, she thought, wondering how Ron and Harry were faring. If they succeeded in defeating Voldemort, they still could be lost, or destroyed by Dementors, or the lake monster or any other creatures that lived down here.

Harry wouldn't care though, she realised. Nothing would stop him going after Voldemort, even if he had to follow him to Azkaban.

The waves were running into tunnels over their head now, crashing with a muffled thunder in an unseen hole. The lowest part of the sloping floor was wet, and the walls glistened in places in a way Hermione hadn't remembered. Almost before she had time to wonder how much farther they had to go, the tunnel stopped abruptly in a solid surface that reflected the weak wandlight back in diffuse rays. The seal.

"How do we get through that?" Neville asked.

"Simple spell," said Hermione, placing her hand on the surface. It felt like solid rock, though she knew it was in fact thinner than paper and completely transparent. "Or a magically imbued knife." She looked ruefully at the wand fragment she held. It had been a powerful wand once. She knew before she attempted it that there was no way it could channel enough power to remove the seal.

"Wait," said Neville. "Is that a reflection?"

Hermione looked. "It's a light on the other side. They must have already seen us."

_8888_

"Look, Ron!"

A faint light shimmered just beyond the first entrance, the one he and Hermione had sealed weeks ago.

"Wha-at! Don't make a noise Harry, it could be anything." Ron yelped as he backed in the direction of the stairs. He tripped over a patch of uneven ground and fell with a loud clatter. Harry helped him up.

"Come on Ron, it might be the others. That entrance is sealed because it's safe – only spiders in there."

"_Only_ spiders!" Ron hugged the wall warily, eying the dense areas that indicated the other exits. The boggart roller-skated merrily around the cave – Harry was quite happy with a roller-skating Aragog while Ron wasn't too keen on dementors. Strange logic had ruled.

"Is that you Hermione?" There was no answer. "Stand back," Harry shouted again, "I'm going to unseal." The light flickered, but didn't move. _"Lumos."_ He waved the light across the sealed archway. The other light flickered and vanished.

Harry watched the seal start to shimmer and peel. As soon as it was gone Hermione's voice called to them.

"Harry, that is you isn't it? Is Ron there? Come in here, quick."

_8888_

As soon as the four of them were together and the entrance had been resealed, Hermione started crying, trying to hug Harry and Ron at once.

"We were so worried! I didn't know if we'd find you here. What happened to Voldemort? What's tha-at?"

Snape was looming over the group. Ron chuckled – he'd far rather see Snape than a roller-skating spider any day.

"Do your bird hat thing, Neville."

Snape sat down, most disgruntled. He was wearing a long lilac dress with a magenta handbag sporting parakeet beak clasps. His witches hat had tulips woven round the border, the heavy flower heads glistening in the faint light of Harry and Ron's wands.

"Voldemort – disapparated."

"What? Why?"

"I tried to kill him, that's why," Harry said heavily. "He gave Ron his wand back, said he would duel with both of us at the same time. The first spells collided in mid-air with enough noise to wake the dead. Then I...I…"

"He used _Avada kedavra_. So did Harry. The spell passed right through him."

"Through who?"

"Through Harry. It didn't work. And then the Boggart disappeared and the eeriest voice roared at Voldemort to shut up and Harry's spell hit the wall – he'd gone. Disapparated."

"Something came pounding out of the second entrance – you know, the one where the Dementors are. We couldn't see what it was. It swept right past us and into one of the other passages. About five minutes later the Boggart came back."

"I still don't see why we should put up with a live Boggart," Ron muttered. "We know how to get rid of them."

"So that's it. We couldn't get back, so we sat down and waited. I figured eventually some-one would open the trap door from above. Otherwise…" he laughed shortly, "we either starve to death or wait for Voldemort to come back and finish us off."

"With a wand that works, this time," said Ron.

"He's still got my wand?"

"Sorry Neville," said Harry. "He tried to kill me with it. Maybe your wand likes me."

"We need to get back," said Hermione. "You've got your wand, Harry, we should be able to get out somehow and signal Dumbledore." Her voice trailed away. She knew better than any of them that their spells protected the house from every angle except inside. The chance of them finding a way to open the trapdoor again was about one in a million.

"I'm not going," said Harry.

"What? Harry, are you crazy? We don't know where Voldemort is."

"He hasn't gone far. I'm going to find him."

"But Harry, he could have diaspparated anywhere. We need to make contact with Dumbledore."

"You go. I'm here to face up to Voldemort and I'm going to do it. I'm not leaving the job half-done. He's still in the caves, I can feel it."

"You're not going alone," said Ron.

"You're not coming with me. This is my job."

"Harry, you can't go alone, but we do need to try and contact Dumbledore."

"Look, it was my parents he killed. Because of him I've never had a Mum and a Dad, and it was my prophecy that started all this. Go and send your message. I'm going to find him."

Neville stood up. "Let's go."

"Neville, you're not coming. This is my job."

"If it wasn't for him, I'd have a Mum and Dad too. Let's go."

Harry and Neville set off at a run. Hermione and Ron followed. Boggart/Snape got up, stumbled over his six-inch stiletto heels, got up again and minced past them, his eyes on Neville.

_8888_

"We're lost, aren't, we?"

"How long has it been?"

"Not quite two days. Dinner's ready, come and sit down."

"Hermione, that smells foul. What is it?"

"A couple of bats to share, and a handful of leeches each. If any-one is still hungry find me something else. Neville, send your pet boggart away, he's not to share."

"If I could think of anyone I'd rather not be trapped in a cave with…" said Harry, scowling at Boggart/Snape. "Neville, can't you force him into a bathing costume or something?"

"Don't Harry, I don't want to think it. I'm trying to make him less scary, not more so." Boggart/Snape was now wearing a frilly pink nightgown with matching elbow-length gloves.

"I still don't understand why the trapdoor moved," said Harry. "Did Voldemort do that?"

"Yes."

"You know? Why didn't you tell us before?"

"I thought you knew," said Hermione. "We all read the stuff I found out about the history of Muddleworth's property."

Her words were met with silence, not even broken by the sound of chewing. Neville had stopped with a bat's wing partway to his mouth.

"Didn't you?"

"Hermione, we didn't have time. Besides, you know everything."

"But Harry, someday I might not be…" She sighed, and Harry knew she was about to explain in simple words that he could understand. He had looked at the fifty pages or so she'd handed him, neatly bound with string, but had made practically no sense of it. Silently he started counting backwards from five - five seconds to gather her thoughts into a form coherent to sixteen and seventeen year old boys, that was what it normally took.

"Voldemort is a descendant of Salazar Everest. You already knew that. If he wanted to locate Slytherin Manor and move in, he would be entitled to do so. But not this house. He has blood rights to this house, but no birthright. The birthright was passed on to a baby that only lived a few days – and left no descendants."

"I don't understand," Harry said. "You just said that Voldemort had moved the trapdoor."

"He did. Not consciously. The house recognises its own, and responds to the presence of its master's blood – even diluted through several generations. If you went back upstairs, you would find other things have changed. But without the birthright, he cannot control any of the old magicks – they simply respond to him in a way that neither he nor any-one else can predict. And there are newer charms on the house – not the ones we placed there. Muddleworths lived here for five generations before Voldemort sent his Death Eaters after them. Just as well," she said, shuddering. Harry thought she must have just swallowed a particular bitter leech, but it was Ron who connected her action with what she had just said.

"What do you mean, 'just as well'. No-one deserves to go like that."

"Don't you know what they were? It was a corruption, an experiment gone wrong. Artemisia – it's not just a pretty name, it's bound up with the first powerful owner of the house, part and parcel of what he was."

"_Artemisia vulgaris_," said Neville.

"That's right. Mugwort. It was known as Muggle-wort in this area, and within the first generation of sentience they changed it again – to Muddleworth. No-one knew where they'd come from, with good reason. For who would notice an ugly plant growing by the wayside? Or imagine that any wizard, even Slytherin's heir, would consider modifying a plant with his own genetic material? Mugwort – the plant – was powerful, you know. In large quantities – and large quantities are easy to come by – it could nullify almost any sorcery Salazar Everest could perform. What he intended to achieve by breeding with it, I don't know. Unfortunately, the experiment was already nearing completion when Salazar died. He left behind his… playground, laboratory, whatever you call it. These tunnels exist untouched, but the house itself was lived in and modified but Muddleworths and Professor…"

"_She_ lived here?" Harry broke in. "You mean that old story's true?"

"And lucky for us she did," said Hermione. "There's no other witch alive who could perform the sort of charms and countercharms she's placed on Muddleworth's old place. And if she hadn't agreed to take on the DADA vacancy, we'd probably never have learned about it."

"However do you find out all this stuff, Hermione?" Ron asked.

"Perseverance. And that's not the half of it. There's so much more… and it's just inches away, as though I should be able to understand it, but I can't yet."

"Hermione," said Harry suddenly. "All those charms and stuff – do they have any effect down here? Can Voldemort control the animals or anything?"

"I don't know. But I'd say so. If any-one could investigate and use these tunnels and their contents, he could. No Muddleworth ever came down here." She paused. "In fact, it's a jolly good thing you half-finished him off when you did, Harry. There's no doubt that using this place is what he had in mind when he had the Muddleworths killed, the year before you were born."

"Just a shame you didn't do the job properly first time round, eh Harry?" said Ron.

Harry forced a grin. He wondered how much of this Voldemort had known. Hermione had convinced the adults that the charms on the house were strong enough to prevent Voldemort from seriously harming them, even at his most murderous. But down here there was no protection – and who knows how many more half-hatched experiments or loyal Dark creatures were living or incubating in the tunnels? Before he had a chance to follow that train of thought, he saw the boggart turn its head.

"Hullo –what's Boggart doing?" Boggart/Snape transformed with a loud crack into something that would have terrified Harry if it had been looking at him. Hermione pushed Neville forward.

"Close your eyes and concentrate Neville, pink night gown!"

With another crack Snape returned. Harry listened to the patter of feet growing fainter.

"Just spiders probably. Boggart/basilisk was more than a match for them."

"Just spiders? Harry, those spiders eat people. Don't you remember what Aragog said?"

"Sorry Ron, but given the choice of Dementors or spiders, I know which I'd choose."

Hermione shuddered. "Don't Harry, just eat your meal." She fingered her empty wand pocket nervously. They were lucky to be alive. If it hadn't been for Neville's quick actions they would twice have disturbed the manticore during their search, And Harry and Ron had had to stop and rest for several hours after Dementors had swept down a side passage after the group. They had almost collapsed under the strain of holding them off until a huge black shape had bounced towards the small figures. The young Dementors scattered and ran. None of the boys understood what happened until Hermione explained about black holes – a nothingness that swallowed up anything it came in contact with.

The light meal over, they stood up, stretching their cramped legs. Boggart/Snape was sitting scowling at Neville, as close as he could get without being pushed away.

"He's not far away," said Harry. "I think we'll catch up with him soon."

Leading the way, he walked to the end of the passage and took a right turn. He heard a light pitter-patter of feet, and the soft tread of a large cat-like animal. The spiders and the manticore were close behind.

_8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888_

Night drew on. Draco was utterly bored. The adults generally ignored him. Hermione was lost without her wand. Something was happening down there and no-one was doing anything except watching and waiting.

If he hadn't been so worried he would have enjoyed looking at the stars when they came out. The room was quite light with a nearly full moon shining overhead. All night one or more of the adults stood and watched the house. A beam of light cut through the darkness, sweeping across the waves about once a minute. It was from the new lighthouse, out on a point the other side of the cliff.

Draco thought he hadn't had much sleep at all when he woke up in the morning. He was cosy under a blanket someone had laid over him. It was already bright daylight, although he knew the last time he'd opened his eyes the stars were still out and Dumbledore and Snape had been whispering together.

Moody and Tonks left after a light breakfast, and Dumbledore finally spoke directly to Draco.

"You took my challenge, as of course I knew you would," he said. "We owe it to you to explain a little more. No doubt what you have heard so far has greatly confused you. First of all, I want you to forget it. Forget everything you have heard."

Draco decided for sure that the man was loopy – until a glimmer of understanding began to appear. He locked all his thoughts away and screwed down the hatches. If this was going to be what he thought, it was most important that that understanding was locked away too. He looked Dumbledore in the eyes.

"Very good. Severus. Come and test him, this is your expertise."

Snape walked over and crouched on his haunches in front of Draco, sitting cross-legged on the floor. His gaze seemed almost lazy at first, but it felt uncomfortably as if a knife were being inserted into his brain and manipulated with surgical precision.

"Get up and walk around," Snape snapped. "Get out of the habit of doing this in a meditation pose. The Dark Lord won't wait for you to control your thoughts."

Draco did so, sauntering with an ease that belied the tension he felt.

"What is murtlap essence used for?" Snape asked.

"Er… all skin conditions. Boils, wounds." It was hard to find answers with Snape staring at him, knowing that he was supposed to keep his thoughts secure.

"What part of the hippocampus can be used for potions?" "Which potions?" "Where are your parents, Malfoy?" "Have you ever used an illegal curse?"

The questions followed thick and fast. Some of them Draco knew he was expected to answer coherently, others he realised were probing for information he should never give. Eventually Snape threw him a rather surly glance. "You're tired Draco. Sleep. And don't let your guard down."

_Constant vigilance_. It was an old quote of Moody's. He obediently returned to the blanket. It was now mid-morning, and he had no idea how he was going to keep his thoughts under control while he slept.

An hour later Snape touched his shoulder. "Wake up Draco." Draco sat up and yawned. When he met Snape's eyes the harshness had gone. Snape started speaking about school, holding a relaxed conversation about the people and things that pass through a House-master's office. His expression was relaxed, his face gentle – almost like Dumbledore, Draco thought. He wondered why he presented such a harsh expression normally – why if he just washed his hair he'd be quite good looking.

"Constant vigilance," a voice barked. It was Snape. "I won't even have the grace to blush at that, he snapped. The Dark Lord will not be giving you any second chances."

"Why Severus, whatever could make you think about blushing?" asked Professor McGonagall. Draco looked keenly at Snape. The thoughts he could detect were woolly and uncoordinated. Dumbledore coughed behind him.

"Mr Malfoy, Voldemort would not appreciate that. I'm going to take a few minutes to teach you what Snape is doing just now. It's not much harder than what you can do already, and it means that when Voldemort probes your mind he won't find it suspiciously blank. Most people spend their days with thoughts running amok all over the place – on any and every subject. It will not surprise Voldemort in the least if he finds a student whose thoughts dwell on food, girls and his appearance. You are going to appear to be much more mundane than you really are."

_8888_

At twelve noon exactly Snape walked Draco along the beach, beyond the cliffs with the crashing waves. The sea wasn't exactly gentle here, but at least there was a space to walk below the cliffs.

"We know this cave is connected to the ones under the house. That's the entrance, over there. Use your wand to point you; you'll be heading southwest to get closer to the house. Remember, if you meet the Dark Lord – and I expect you will – do NOT under any circumstance try to probe his mind. Unless Potter and Granger have severely disillusioned him by now, he will not expect much of a seventeen year old wizard."

Then he was gone. Draco walked forward. He reached the entrance, looked inside then sat down and looked at the view. He thought of eating the sandwiches his mother had packed for him, but decided to explore a little first. At the back of the cave the rock narrowed into a tunnel. On the other side it was all blank wall. _I can get through that. I wonder how far it goes_. He took his day bag off and crawled underneath the overhanging ledge scuffing the knees of his new jeans. The passage widened slightly, but was not high enough to stand up. He crawled further. It was starting to get really dark. _This is great. Maybe it goes right under the cliff. I might meet a dragon. _"_Lumos_" he whispered. The faint light lit up the reddish, crumbling walls. He stepped round a puddle on the floor, then another. Occasionally waves crashed with a distant boom.

_Perhaps we can come here next year too_. There was a short stream running along the floor now, the water draining rapidly away into the sand. He was walking through it, leaving deep footprints. Further down, when the sand was dry again, he sat down to rest. He was tired, unbelievably tired.

Four hours later Draco knew he was lost. He had lost track of the time and forgotten any spells that might tell him. His jeans were damp from the pools he had waded through and his mouth uncomfortably gritty from the sandstone dust. Half of his mother's sandwiches he had eaten earlier. _Why didn't I mark the path? I can't believe how stupid that was_. He was thankful he hadn't met any dragons, but wondered what other creatures might live under here. Certainly leeches in all the damp spots. There had been classes on Hinkypunks, Red caps, Grindylows – he'd never really paid attention. One of his teachers had even taught him about a werewolf. He shuddered. Uneasily, he squatted against a wall. Perhaps he could eat the rest of the sandwiches. On the other hand, he might not get out till morning.

"Draco Malfoy!"

_8888_

Draco started. The voice was high and cold, its owner stooping a little as he watched him.

"Y-yes. How did you know?" Voldemort approached as Draco lowered his wand, the light now illuminating a patch on the floor. "I've seen you before!" the boy exclaimed. "You were in Hogsmeade last week."

"I was indeed." The man smiled, a cold smile that did not reach his eyes. "Do you know who I am?"

Draco shook his head.

"I thought as much," muttered the man. "Probably modified his memory when he got back." He waved his wand so that a thin stream of light issued from it. The letters formed a phrase 'I am Lord Voldemort.'

"You're You-know-who?" asked Draco. "Why, then you're the person I'm looking for."

"Looking for me were you? That was a foolish thing to do; you've got yourself badly lost."

"Oh no, I'm not lost. I'm with you now."

"If I say you're lost, you are lost. No man is so lost than he that is in the wrong company. What would your parents say if they knew you were here?"

Draco looked at the floor.

"They wouldn't like it, eh? I should think they wouldn't"

"They don't care," said Draco, angrily. "Why should they care? They can sod off."

The man looked at him curiously. "Hold up the light boy. I want to look at your face." He surveyed him curiously for a moment. "What did you suppose you were going to do when you found me?"

"Help you," said Draco immediately.

"Help me?"

"Yes. You're on the run, aren't you? I thought – well, I'm pretty good at school and all that. I thought if I help you beat Dumbledore's spells…"

"Tell the truth boy."

Draco looked at the floor again. Finally he blurted out, "My father hates me. I don't want to stay… I can't stay with them a moment longer. And Mother is messing with other men and thinking I don't notice. They picked me up from school when he got out of prison, but it's been awful. You'll let me stay with you, won't you? I want to learn all the spells."

"So that you can go back and kill them – like I did my own father?"

"I didn't think of that."

"I know your parents, Draco Malfoy. They thought to run away from me. So they brought you down here and you ran right into my arms. That is amusing. Most amusing."

Draco wasn't sure that he understood what was amusing about it. He was hungry.

"I've got food," the man said. "Come with me. You are tired, and I have work to do."

"Work?" asked Draco, but he was almost asleep on his feet as he followed Voldemort.

_8888_

Late that night Draco woke up. As his eyes adjusted he could just make out the curve of Voldemort's shoulder and head, lying on a blanket in the middle of the cave. The man was sleeping soundlessly. Draco was certain that he had not made the noise that woke him.

He still felt exhausted. Voldemort had questioned him while they ate. Most of all he wanted to know about Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. His eyes gleamed when Draco mentioned Neville Longbottom as a friend of Harry's.

"You don't like them, do you?"

"No. Potter's so full of himself, strutting about breaking all the rules. He gets away with anything – just because he's famous."

"You like Hermione Granger though"

Draco shook his head. "She's just as bad. Even Professor Snape calls her an insufferable know-it-all."

"You're lying to yourself Draco." Draco was silent. It was true that that cat was marching up and down behind his eyes again. Proctor inevitably reminded him of Crookshanks, so that if he visualised Proctor, Hermione Granger was sure to arrive on scene shortly after. Six months practise had not made him any more able to shut her out of his thoughts.

Where do you think she is now?"

"At school, I s'pose. It won't officially be the holidays yet. I haven't seen much of her for a few days."

"Some-one's modified your memory for you, young Malfoy. I know where she was on Saturday afternoon. She certainly wasn't at school."

Draco found the probing questions about his parents, and schoolfriends – or enemies – quite disconcerting. As soon as possible he asked about Voldemort's goals. He'd always been curious. Some of the stories he had heard as a child were quite confusing, with no obvious reason behind them. Voldemort seemed more than willing to talk, humouring him as one would a playful puppy.

"Why don't you try for Minister of Magic, my Lord. Surely you would have more influence that way? There's plenty of wizards who would support you."

Voldemort had returned a rather disdainful stare. "Would Salazar Slytherin have been content as Minister of Magic? I am Slytherin's heir, the last of my line. If wizards want a figurehead, they're welcome to Fudge. I am the most powerful wizard born this century, consequently my ambitions are rather higher than merely Minister of Magic." He snapped his fingers.

"As long as Mudbloods and Muggles are admitted to Hogwarts, wizardry will never attain the heights of which it is capable. Even squibs wander the halls of that once revered school. No Malfoy, the ministry is important, but it is not the end. The school is important, but it is not the endmost goal. Nevertheless, with control of the school, the Ministry and therefore the media, then work starts to be done. But not with me as figure-head, oh no."

"Why not, my Lord?"

"No wise man seeks glory. I follow Professor Moriarty's noble example. The man with the power is as the spider at the centre of the web, controlling every thread of communication and encompassing the structure of society, so insidiously that the common wizard believes he makes his own choices. That, Draco Malfoy, is power. A young man like you can be most useful. Not as Headmaster of Hogwarts, nor as Minister of Magic – you're too young to be convincing. I believe I may have suggested something about Hogwarts to your dear aunt. She is most loyal, she will do a good job there. As you too, will be a good servant."

Voldemort looked keenly at Draco. _If Bellatrix Lestrange is headmistress, I could help run the school. She wouldn't put up with Muggles_. He nodded his head.

"Perhaps. Wizardry and Witchcraft have a great future – if bunglers like Dumbledore and Harry Potter are got out of the way. A central vision will restore order to the nation, and eventually, international practices."

Deep in the back of his mind, where Voldemort couldn't reach it, Draco's thoughts were not quite in agreement with what he heard – yet he left these questions unsaid, feeling that his _Lord_ would not wish to answer them. _None of the people I know who are Death Eaters have such noble goals. Even Aunt Bella, they just enjoy power or dislike Muggles. Did he not explain this to them?_

Late in the evening Voldemort had thrown him a blanket and told him to sleep.

He heard the noise again – a faint scrape. He sat up, feeling for his wand. Voldemort had told him about the dark creatures that abounded in these caves. Some-one whispered, and he froze. It must be them. Voldemort had told him that there were other students in the caves.

"My Lord." Voldemort sprang up as soon as he called, his eyes gleaming in the dark.

"Don't move until I tell you Draco. I've waited a long time for this."


	16. Montane Hope Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Harry looked at the hate in those red eyes and knew that this time it was for real. This time Voldemort was going to kill him. He raised his wand to ward off the curse, as Voldemort turned slightly.

"_Avada kedavra."_ A spider rolled out of the entrance, stone dead. Voldemort turned back to Harry.

"_Avada kedavra."_ Boggart/Harry keeled over backwards, then sat up again, a dazed look in its eyes.

"Get on with it Voldemort," yelled Harry. "I didn't come here to play games." A rustling noise behind him signalled the emergence of more spiders, their jaws clicking menacingly. Harry was shaking in his shoes, but he stood up straight as Voldemort turned to face him again.

"So, you have brought your little herd of creatures with you. Why don't we have a nice little duel Harry, just you and I? The animals are most… off putting." He glared at boggart/Harry, frantically waving its wand. Before he was able to step towards Harry, however, a boy barrelled forward, hitting him in the chest. Voldemort barely kept his balance.

_Neville! He doesn't even have a wand!_

"You're not going anywhere with Harry. You have to deal with me first, you evil slimebag, you give me back my wand and pay, I say PAY for…" Neville's voice trailed off, his shoulders shaking as he hit and kicked Voldemort. Harry saw a look in Voldemort's eyes that looked suspiciously like fear. The wizard lifted his wand arm in a movement that threw Neville back among the spiders. The spiders hissed and clicked, but didn't move.

'Say goodbye Harry, enough games_. Avada kedavra_." Harry ducked, the flash of green light hitting a spider behind him. The spider hissed. They charged forward, surrounding Voldemort in a flurry of legs as he stabbed and yelled.

"Your wand's not working," said Harry, to the recovering Neville. Voldemort was struggling to stay on his feet when he heard Hermione scream. An animal twice the size of a man emerged from the passage where they were hiding, its scorpion tail curled high over its back. The spiders scattered as it ploughed through them, growling. Harry shut his eyes as the manticore reared up, slashing Voldemort with its huge paws. The manticore turned on him and Neville, and he shrank back against the wall, holding his wand out. _Hit it in the eye – it's the only place_. He tried to keep one of the eyes in focus as the manticore reared up, knowing that it would be almost impossible to accurately blind it.

A sudden movement distracted him, and the manticore toppled sideways. It rolled over like a cat, twitching its tail high, the stinging end bulging as it turned to face the spider that had knocked it over. Seeing itself outnumbered by the eight-legged creatures, it dashed back towards the passage it had come from. Harry ran frantically to cut it off. _Hermione! Ron!_

Boggart/Harry ran across the manticore's line of sight and disappeared in a loud crack – at least Harry thought so. _What's the manticore looking at?_ Growling, the beast was backing up, its tail between its legs. It turned and ran, the feet pounding finally into silence deep in the caves.

Voldemort had gone. Hermione and Ron climbed out of the passage and joined them, Ron looking nervously at the spiders that were inspecting their injuries and moving away into the caves. Two of them had picked up the dead one and carried it away.

"What happened, Harry, Neville? That was so scary, not knowing what you were doing in here."

"Last time you _ever_ persuade me to hide behind a rock when Voldemort's around," growled Ron. His face was white. "What happened to Voldemort anyway? Did you kill him?"

I didn't do anything. I hadn't even time to think of a spell. Neville attacked him and the spiders attacked him and then the manticore attacked him and I think he must have disapparated, which means he must still be alive. Oh – and Neville's wand stopped working again. He used the killing curse twice and it didn't work. Though maybe it doesn't work on boggarts."

"It should work on a boggart," said Hermione. "Are you sure he disapparated, the manticore didn't eat him or something?"

"It didn't have time. I was busy with the manticore and when I turned around he had gone."

"We're going to find him again, aren't we,' said Neville, trying valiantly to stand up.

"No, he really has gone. He's not dead, but he's not here any more. I just know that he's a long way away now."

"Breakfast time," said Hermione, conjuring up a fire with the fragment of Voldemort's wand. The boys stared at her. 'I'm hungry even if you're not. It's hours since dinner." She took four tiny, amoebic looking fish out of her pocket and threw them in the fire, followed a few minutes later by a generous handful of leeches and six large black beetles.

"I don't know how you do it, Hermione," said Ron, looking admiringly at her and distastefully at the food – if both looks are possible at the same time, which Harry doubted.

"We're closer to the sea than the house," she said.

"How can you know that?" demanded Harry.

"I just know. If you fancy walking back into the Dementors, or wandering for another couple of days, that's fine, go back the way we came." She paused, as if daring him to do just that.

"No, I didn't mean that. I just mean, we've come so far, I don't know how you can possibly know where we are."

"I don't, but I know how to get out."

Ron looked as confused as Harry felt. Neville munched stolidly on his half burned, half raw fish. Once the meal was over they meekly got up and followed Hermione, followed by Boggart/Snape. The boggart had returned while they ate and gone straight to Neville. Neville was too exhausted to alter his appearance, so he glided along like a very sinister, normal looking Professor Snape.

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Draco was half-dozing on a dry patch of ground when he heard footsteps coming towards him. Thinking it was Voldemort returning, he sat up and took out his wand. His head cleared quickly as he realised the tread was heavy and soft – not human. He glanced quickly round the cave looking for an escape route. The footsteps paused.

"Man cub! How do you come here?"

Draco looked up, alarmed at the creature that had appeared in the entrance. He started backing away, along the wall.

"Wh-what are you?"

The manticore carried its tail high over its long, cat-like body. It lay down, staring at Draco, its tail twitching. Six months ago Draco might have relaxed slightly – but Proctor had taught him better. He swung his wand up and screamed out a curse as the animal pounced. The conjunctivitis spell hit it square in the eye, so that it stopped in mid-air, rolling over in agony. Draco barely avoided being crushed against the wall as he ran, jumping as high as he could to get to the space behind a rock, halfway up the far wall. Safely hidden, he turned round to look. The manticore was squealing, its paws over its eyes. A small animal ran up behind it – a mouse. It ran right up onto the manticore's face, causing it to snort and move back. Catching sight of it with its good eye, it screamed and ran, the mouse pursuing it deep into the labyrinth.

_8888_

Draco waited, cold and cramped. _What can a mouse be doing this deep underground? _Voldemort didn't come back, and he began to wonder whether Potter really had finished him off. Eventually he crawled out of his hiding place. Picking up his little bag, he took his wand out and concentrated on the water, visualising the crashing waves, the small beach. In time he began to sense a direction. He got up and started walking. Common sense couldn't help him out of this maze, but his feet seemed to know the way.

Hours later he blinked in bright daylight. The entrance he had arrived at was halfway up the cliff, looking down on the sea. Too disorientated to consider apparating, he waited for his eyes to adjust, then crawled on to the ledge and started climbing. Professor Snape met him at the top of the cliff explaining that the cave entrance he had arrived at was one that could be seen from the light house. Seconds later Draco found himself back in Dumbledore's office, still clutching the piece of driftwood that served as a Portkey. Neither Luna nor Ginny were present, and he left the office with barely a nod to the portraits, running to reach the Transfiguration class Snape had told him to supervise ahead of the students. By the time dinner came around he was certain food had never tasted so good.

_8888_

The following morning the four Gryffindors were back. Draco noticed that people gave them plenty of space – skirting round them in the corridor, avoiding their eyes when they walked into a room. They stuck together and didn't seem to mind. He wondered what sort of rumours were being told – he himself had said nothing of his exploits and every-one except Pansy had accepted Draco's explanation that the suit of armour had landed him in the hospital wing overnight. She had snorted in disbelief when he said that, and Draco had seen her in the corridor later, talking to Lisa.

Dumbledore summoned Draco after lunch on Wednesday. Everything seemed to be back to normal. Pansy had slept for a full day after the missing staff members returned, and was almost her normal self. Some of the other prefects who had looked almost dead on their feet were beginning to recover, but the four Gryffindors looked pale and tired, and Ginny still had deep purple shadows under her eyes as if she hadn't slept for a week. In less than three days the school would be almost empty, as the Hogwarts Express sped south.

As soon as he had arrived in Dumbledore's office and sat down in the chair that was placed for him, Madam Pomfrey leaned over him, taking his pulse and telling him to stick his tongue out. Draco squirmed away. 'I'm fine, really."

'Well have some chocolate at least. I don't know what this school is coming to. No-one in their right minds would send adult wizards to do the sort of thing you and your classmates have been up to." She glared at Dumbledore.

"Thankyou Poppy," he smiled pleasantly. "If Mr Malfoy insists he is in perfect health, you had probably better leave him. Perhaps you could check whether Molly Weasley has managed to round up some of the others, though I suspect they will be similarly recalcitrant."

Madam Pomfrey snorted. "Coming back like that, no real food for days and no proper sleep either – and first thing in the morning they're up and back out in the school. I must get you to organise some better locks for the hospital wing."

"I'll see to it, Poppy." Dumbledore stood up to let her out. Coming back, he folded his hands together and looked over his glasses at Draco.

"What happened to Voldemort?" asked Draco. "Is he dead?"

"No, he is not dead. I have confirmed that he is seriously injured, and presently hiding in the south of France."

"He didn't try to kill Potter?"

"Curiously, he did try to kill Potter. He failed."

Draco was disbelieving.

"Draco, if a wizard wishes to use a killing curse, he has to want the person – or thing – dead with all the power he possesses. This takes a certain amount of confidence. What do you think a boggart would change into when it saw Voldemort?"

Draco shook his head. He didn't think the wizard he'd spent several hours talking to was scared of anything.

"I can tell you, because we used one on him. In fact, I believe Miss Granger made the mistake of hugging the boggart in the belief that it was Mr Potter."

Draco scowled, an expression which Dumbledore didn't miss.

"Harry Potter and his little group of friends have overcome Voldemort through various means every time he has faced them. Knowing – as he has known before Harry was even born - that the two were destined to be enemies, he becomes a little less confident every time he faces him. How would you feel about performing a killing curse on the thing you were most afraid of?"

"You mean he couldn't kill Potter because he was afraid of him. That's nonsense!"

"Fear can be very debilitating. It is one of the few reasons why wands won't work. Interestingly, one of the other reasons is almost the opposite. When a person becomes confident enough to draw on the powers of nature, occasionally simple spells will fail. You will probably experience both these situations before you are very much older."

"Why did you need me at all? I didn't do any good did I?"

"On the contrary," said Dumbledore, "you conducted yourself remarkably well. We asked you to spend time, alone, with one of the most dangerous wizards alive. You have come back unharmed and without failing in your duty – to him or to me. He has asked a duty of you, hasn't he?"

Draco nodded.

"You will do it. I'm not telling you, it will be your own choice. When you are ready, come back and see me. In the meantime – study. Snape will instruct you tonight and tomorrow. As your understanding of Subneorancia increases, your ability to achieve your goals will increase."

"Professor – does this mean I'm a member of the Order and all that?"

"Not a regular one. What you do will be your own choice. I am not asking you to obey me, or Voldemort. All I ask is that you consult with both of us and act as you see fit. Meanwhile, study. Subneorancia is more important than you yet realise."

Draco turned to leave. As his hand was on the door however, Dumbledore had one last word.

"Do your best on Friday. One who works so hard will earn a reward – don't you think?"

_8888_

The final three days of term passed in a flurry. Most of the teachers had provided simple, fun activities for their classes – except Snape and McGonagall of course, who never seemed to lighten up. Draco spent a couple of hours each night studying with Snape, and an hour practising with Lisa. She was a bundle of nerves with the end of term and the planned display so close. On Friday morning he was on his way to the dungeons at break time when he met Potter and Granger heading in the other direction. Potter started turning away, but Draco stepped out in front of him to stop him.

"So – Potter has pulled it off for the sixth year in a row. Once again he has attempted, and failed to get rid of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Once again he has diced with death half a dozen times in a single day – and survived. Potter, I've got to say this. You have a very… admirable… persistence!"

Draco clapped Potter on the shoulder, shook his hand, then burst into peals of laughter. Potter looked very confused.

Hermione shrugged. "Never mind him, Harry. Let's go to the library."

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_Dear Mother and Father,_

_I am sorry to leave you so suddenly. I appreciate your concern but I feel it would be far too disruptive to my career if I were to change schools now. All my friends are at Hogwarts. I will be very careful, as you initially requested, not to draw attention to myself._

_Meantime I am in the Blue Mountains area, exploring the bush. Australia has a great many strange animals, I believe Mother would enjoy it here. I hope to travel to Uluru and some of the other ancient sites before returning to Hogwarts. Please do not try to follow me. I am old enough to look after myself._

_With love_

_Draco_

Draco sealed his parchment, and sent the little black morepork back across the sea to New Zealand with the letter firmly tied to its leg. He regretted leaving the bush – he had fallen in love with the Australian scenery, and it would have been well worthwhile travelling the desert as he had stated he was going to. _Another time. I'll come back. _It hurt, abandoning his parents like this. _How can I leave them again? Mother was so upset the day I climbed Mt Pirongia_. He hoped she would understand.

_8888_

"_Just stay in his company as much as you can. Don't let him see you sending any messages. He will allow you to return to school next term, I am positive of that"_

Draco wandered along the beach, smiling to himself as the waves lapped round his feet. In his head he was dancing. Light and surefooted, part of the washing of the waves and the rhythm of the earth. Flying like the birds of the air. In his shiny grey tunic he jumped and spun and caught, Lisa graceful like a butterfly. Then she had left. The Great Hall exploded with applause and he stood there, alone. There, and yet not there. Professor Flitwick had dimmed the lights, by starlight and moonlight he started moving again. He was a tree shaken by the wind, a river rushing to the sea, a flame that leaped and burned. And then he was just Draco. And there was silence. He bowed his head briefly and turned and left as the applause broke out, students standing on their chairs, standing on the tables. He was gone, sitting behind the stage with Lisa when Dumbledore stood up, waving his arms and requesting silence.

In his head he was dancing, yet his feet were on the sand and he felt the cool water wash over them. In the distance he saw a man approach. Voldemort!

_It's too late to be scared._

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**A/N**

That's it folks. Journey's over, the rest is another story. To end with a beginning is such a cruel thing to do… Please review, let me know if any of the plot points are still confusing you, and what you think will happen now.


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